


In This Windy City

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: Copfic [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 64,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chicago Homicide Detectives run themselves all over the city to tie together a handful of bodies, a potential scandal with a local Alderman, an unnamed dirty cop, and a possibly even dirtier partner.</p><p>In Chicago, it's not just the wind that'll get you ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Windy City

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Anything you'd expect in a procedural drama or major absurdly rated movie: Bad language, secondary character death(s), car chases, foot races, men having sex. All the good stuff.

  


Jared’s phone rings for the fourth time in thirty minutes but it’s the first time it wakes him up. He glares at the lit display, turns over on the couch, and huddles into himself to fall back asleep. Then the texts start rolling in.

It’s been nearly four years, and Jared still hasn’t adjusted to the hours, middle of the night calls that demand his attention, or having to rise from wherever he crashed to head into work.

He finally checks his phone and a text from his boss alerts him of where he’s needed so he rolls off the couch to pick up his clothes. As he pulls on the dress pants and undershirt, he recalls being so tired that he never made it to the bedroom. He also remembers that he didn’t fall asleep on that couch alone.

“Hey,” he grumbles loudly, hoping his voice floats through the living room, down the hall, and into the bedroom. “Got a job.”

There’s no response, and he shakes his head as he moves into the kitchen. He hasn’t done dishes in nearly two weeks; he rifles around for a semi-clean glass and gulps tap water, wincing a bit at the lukewarm temperature. He’s at least thankful it wets his throat and eases up his voice. Walking down the hallway, he clears his throat to call out louder than before, “Gotta go in.” He stops at the doorway and rolls his eyes at the empty room.

“Asshole,” he mumbles as he turns from the doorjamb.

  


Jared’s steps slow as he approaches the Madison Street Bridge, running east and west with reels of yellow tape keeping away crowds that haven’t come yet. He approaches Benedict, a tech who’s crouched down to one of the banisters of the bridge.

Jared taps him on the shoulder and when the guy spins on him, Jared recoils with a “What the hell!” when the light fastened to the tech’s head pierces Jared’s eyes.

“Oh, crap. Padalecki. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles while redirecting his head and the light.

Jared presses the back of his hand into his eyes. “What the hell’re you doing? Besides blinding me?”

“The street lamps are out and I needed the light. I had to calculate the angles, you know, and document drips.”

He winces at the rattling voice and then points at the area Benedict had been checking. “Alright, what d’you got then?”

“There’s a lotta dirt. And grime. The city’s festering with it,” Benedict rambles nervously as he looks around and keeps pointing. “I mean, I’ve seen some before, but it’s here. And there, and maybe more we haven’t uncovered yet. It’s _everywhere_.”

“Yeah, that’s nothing new. Who was first on scene?”

“Abel. But I don’t know. The kid’s nervous as hell. He can’t stop rambling at everybody and he–”

“Do you have anything yet?”

“Possibly foot prints. And we’ve grabbed fingerprints along the bridge, but there’re hundreds here.”

Jared looks up and down the bridge, imagining the rush hour crowds crossing it every morning and evening. “I doubt there’ll be much to go with, huh?”

“I can’t make that statement.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but he knows how Benedict and the entire crew are about not wanting to make conclusions without data. “Alright, yeah.” Jared pushes past Benedict, cutting off the conversation with a pat on his shoulder, and finds the senior tech on the scene and Abel standing in the middle of the street. They’re crowded together with a few patrol officers, and Jared pulls at the edge of his jacket, just enough to flash the badge on his belt.

The group splits and Abel faces him, visibly swallowing as the others move their conversation to the other side of the road. “Man, you look like shit,” the young officer jokes with a shaky smile.

He’s well aware that his clothes are wrinkled beyond belief; it happens often enough that he’s long ago stopped caring. “Ain’t looking too grand yourself,” Jared returns with an easy smile and handshake. “How’s your dad?”

“Twitchy,” he returns while crossing his arms awkwardly. “He can’t stand retirement.”

“He turn the scanner on yet?”

Abel chuckles, shoulders settling lower and more comfortably. “No, my mom hid that away while he was still working off the hangover from his party.”

Jared smirks as he spreads his feet a little and rests his hands on his hips, looking across the scene. “Your mom’s a real jewel.” Then he gives Abel a quick look. “The second he turns that thing on, you call me. I’ve got ten weeks in the pool.”

The young officer chuckles again, pulling his hat off to run a hand over his hair before putting it back on and tugging at the brim in salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Jake, what time you get on the scene?” Jared asks, all previous comfort gone from his voice, replaced entirely by a practiced cadence.

“1:17 a.m., I was patrolling south on upper Wacker,” Abel says, same tight tone as Jared, and he carries on like he has all the confidence in the world. Even while his face twists and betrays every ounce of it. “Saw a car roll through a light, west on Madison, so I followed. As I turned the corner, my headlights picked up a runner. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he was in just a t-shirt.”

At Abel’s pause, Jared tips his head down and stares right at him. “And?”

“Well, it’s February, sir. A little cold to be running in a t-shirt.”

Jared scratches the edge of his jaw with a slight chuckle. “Alright, fair enough.”

“And it’s the middle of the night.”

Chuckling lightly, he gives Abel a slightly harsh look. “Yeah, I got it.” He starts a slow stroll towards the walkway where the techs are gathering every piece of debris. “Where was he running from?”

Abel follows and points at a section of railing where red paint gives way to bright silver, bare metal reaching for the rest of the bridge – repairing railings and bridgework just one of many City beautification projects.

“Right about here,” Abel recounts. “I remember the glare off my headers. He was running west, but then he turned at the end of the bridge and charged south through the plaza along the river. I stopped here,” and he sidesteps and pushes his hand down to signal it. “Got out to follow and that’s when I saw the clothes.”

Jared eyes the yellow flags marking where evidence had been retrieved. He frowns at the idea of clothes being a major issue for Abel, but he goes along with it. “And then?”

“And then I called it in. And while I was on the radio, I saw a few more pieces further down the way and then I saw her down there.”

“Down where?” Jared asks as he steps up to the walkway and leans over the railing.

Abel doesn’t have to answer because Jared spots a female body, face down in the water with a police boat sliding closer. _Jumper_ , he immediately thinks while rubbing at the back of his head, wondering why he’s even here for this.

“Padalecki!” a gruff voice rings out and Jared sighs as he turns towards it, watching his boss head towards him. “Where the heck’s your partner?”

“Don’t know. He must’ve broken out of the cuffs I put him in last night,” Jared jokes to move beyond the annoyance of being woken in the middle of the night to oversee a suicide.

Lieutenant Beaver steps up with his hands stuffed into the deep pockets of his trenchcoat. “You’re funny, kid. Too bad you ain’t that smart.” Beaver looks at Abel and nods grimly. “You okay, son?”

“Plenty okay, sir.”

“Don’t go too far, okay?” Beaver instructs as he motions Abel to give him and Jared some space.

When Abel’s a few steps away, Jared smirks and carries on their conversation. “I’m plenty smart. That’s why you got me. Your best detective to call a suicide,” he adds with a bit of bravado, even if he hates being called for deaths he can’t do anything for.

“Second best detective.”

Jared spins to the new voice and tries his best to not smirk at his partner, but it’s difficult to not get a little excited at his presence. Over the years, it’s become increasingly easy and satisfying to work with him.

Beaver huffs at Jensen. “Why’re you always sneakin’ up on me?”

Jensen smirks and hands Jared a covered cup of coffee. “Black as tar, just how you like it.”

“This is the exact _opposite_ of how I like it,” Jared frowns as he accepts the white and tan cup from 7-11. “If you’re gonna be late you could at least come with something good.”

Jensen smirks and nods at Beaver, “Lieu, what’re we looking at?”

Jared leans over the edge with Beaver and Jensen, and says with gravitas, “Well, going by my expert opinion and decade-plus of law enforcement experience, I’d say it’s a body, Jensen.”

“You’re real funny.”

“You know,” Jared smiles. “You’re the second person to say to that inside of five minutes. I’m apt to believe it.”

Beaver sighs. “You two done with the Smothers Brothers act? I’d like for you to solve a little murder if you don’t mind.”

“Murder? Come on,” Jensen says with a roll of his eyes, used to the Lieutenant fighting them on any instance of suicide, always looking for a loophole in any case.

Jared and Jensen together snap to attention when the body below them is flipped and the crew hauls it into the boat. An officer just past Beavers shines a light down on it.

“ _Whoa_ ,” they both proclaim at sight of purple bruises along the naked woman’s throat.

“You boys mind gettin’ to work now?” Beaver asks with a stern glance.

Jared looks at Jensen, grave face and furrowed brow. “I’m gonna need better coffee for this.”

  


Jared yanks his coat off, tosses it over the back of his chair, and sinks into the seat while loosening his tie. Admin Alona Tal drops a handful of files to his desk with a smirk, and he smiles right back.

“I wouldn’t be lookin’ so smooth ‘til you check those out,” she says on her way out of the room.

“I can’t help but be smooth, Lon,” he calls out. “It happens every day.”

Her head pops back into the doorway. “Is that why you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes?”

A few low whistles sound in the bullpen and Jared turns to eye his fellow detectives. “You guys can cut it. This is a mighty fine suit.”

“That you wore yesterday,”Jensen points out as he puts a paper bag at the edge of Jared’s desk before sitting at his own and facing him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to do laundry. I was a little busy solving the–”

“High profile murder of one Joanna Kelley,” Jensen tiredly recites and leans across the desk to give Jared a serious look. “I know, I was there, too. I am your partner, you know?”

“Unfortunately.” He unloads the bag Jensen brought and divvies up the chocolate and vanilla frosted donuts between them. “Speaking of, where were you?”

“I was getting you breakfast.”

Jared stares at Jensen, whose eyes are trained on his computer monitor. “No, I mean this morning.”

“Sleeping.” Jensen barely flinches at Jared’s sigh though he does glance over for a moment. “Until I got the call that is. As I recall you didn’t answer _my_ calls, so what were _you_ doing?”

There’s a long, shared look until Jared’s mouth quirks in a subtle smile. “I was sleepin’.”

Jensen’s lips flip up for a second before he’s turning back to his computer and failing to hide his own smile behind the screen. “Mmhmm.”

Jared takes a heavy bite of his donut and then shifts the files that Tal brought so he can flip through them. The top file has the first set of crime scene photos – Jane Doe as found in the river, clothes strewn across the walkway, and a few other dark shots that he can’t make out. The next file shows general information on a young brunette co-ed; it’s all newspaper clippings, a few internet articles on cheap copy paper, and a college newspaper.

“Abel’s with the sketch artist. He caught some of the runner’s face,” Jensen says as he flips through his own file.

Jared nods numbly, too taken by the display of pictures in front of him. He frowns for a few moments, eyes flipping back and forth in thought as he tries to recall where he’s seen the girl’s face before. Neighborhood events and television interviews flash in his mind.

“Oh, crap,” Jared announces, grabbing Jensen’s attention, and holds up one of the clippings between them. “Jane Doe? Samantha Price.”

“Price as in…?” Jensen says as he looks like he’s starting to catch on.

“Jonathan Price. 47th Ward Alderman.”

Jensen stares at Jared, the clipping, and back to Jared. “Crap.”

  


Jared and Jensen split long enough to grab a bit of sleep and a shower, and by the time Jared steps out the front door to his apartment building, Jensen’s waiting in their sedan. He gives a second glance to the files in the passenger seat before raising an eyebrow at Jensen.

“What?” Jensen asks. “You getting in or what?” Jared looks at the files again and Jensen smirks. “Thought you’d like some reading material.”

“Did any other thoughts occur to you? Maybe for some good coffee, too?” He asks as he grabs the files and slides into the seat.

“Why should I start now?”

“You’re an awful partner. I want a new assignment.”

“Sure you do,” Jensen says with a smile and mock concern. Then his voice goes tight, like it always does on duty. “Lieu said he’ll talk to the Prices. Out of respect to another City employee and all.”

“Alright, good,” Jared sighs and instantly feels guilty for it. He shouldn’t be glad he’s not doing a part of his job, but he has to admit that telling families that they’ve lost a loved one is always the hardest part.

He distracts himself for a few moments with watching the road before them as Jensen expertly maneuvers between traffic for the quickest route. Without thinking, he leans over, poking Jensen’s neck where a few red scratches are barely healing.

“What’d you do?”

Jensen flinches away, twitching his shoulder up to keep Jared’s hand away. “Cut myself shaving.”

Jared reaches again, but his fingers are gentle as he folds the collar of Jensen’s leather jacket back to see it better. “That’s a nasty cut.”

As Jared’s fingers slip along the edges of torn skin, Jensen starts and shoots him an ugly look. “Stop it, man. I don’t know where those hands’ve been.”

Jared snorts. “Sure you do.”

“Makes me even more scared.”

He shakes his head and flips through the file again, reading up on Samantha Price and her time at DePaul University. Paperwork says she received a free ride thanks to her father’s position and constant involvement with the school. But she earned her spot on numerous Dean’s Lists and worked as editor of The DePaulia, the school newspaper. The file had also been updated with family photos from charity events and, unsurprisingly, her Facebook account.

“How’re you feeling on this?” Jared asks, wondering if his stomach is the only one turning at the worry of a public case.

Jensen looks out his window as he makes a left turn, mumbling, “Not too good.”

“Yeah,” Jared replies quietly.

  


For the first time in a long while, they can operate before the press has gotten word of the death, and Jared and Jensen are both quick to act while keeping Samantha Price’s murder quiet for as long as possible.

With that in mind, Jensen proceeds to the Admissions Office while politely asking for the girl’s current schedule and student file.

The thirty-something secretary eyes them both, a few seconds longer on Jared, but still gives them a flat look. “I’m sorry, but we don’t release student records without authorization.”

Jensen motions with his closed billfold, which holds the ID and badge he’d just flashed her. “Well, PD is pretty good authorization.”

She stares at him.

Jared and Jensen share a look and, like a practiced dance, Jensen moves two steps back and Jared two steps up to the desk.

“Hey … Susan,” Jared says, leaning down to eye her nameplate. He shoots her his friendliest, whitest smile. “See, the problem is that we’re trying to track Samantha’s classes down so we can get a message to her.”

“Look, officer–”

“Detective,” he winks. “Detective Padalecki.”

She bites into her bottom lip and looks away for a moment. When she turns back, she looks up through her eyelashes. “Detective, I really wish I could. But I can’t.”

Jared crouches, resting arms on the desk while he draws lines across the surface with a long finger. “Susan, I really think you can,” he prods with a warm voice.

Jensen snorts and when Jared looks back, Jensen tucks his hands into his dress pants and he’s spinning away.

With a smirk, Jared turns back to the secretary and taps his fingers at the edge of her deskpad calendar. “We don’t need her grades, just a schedule. I promise you she’s not in any sort of trouble with us.”

Susan eyes him, taking her time to judge his face, which flips into the warmest, softest, most affable thing Jared can manage. She slowly faces her computer, taps out a few dozen keys, and turns back to Jared with a tiny, shy smile as she holds a printout in the air.

“Thank you _so much_ ,” Jared says while keeping her gaze, smile gentle and eyes even gentler to reinforce the point.

Jensen leans forward, takes the paper, and nods. “Yes, thank you. _So much_ ,” he adds with a hint of sarcasm.

Jared rises and winks at her as he taps the top of her desk. “Have a great day, Susan.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs and goes back to her screen with a broad grin.

Through the hallway, Jensen starts mumbling Samantha Price’s schedule, flicking his finger at each line. Jared bumps into Jensen’s shoulder. “Really had to add on the _so much_ ,” he says with the same sarcasm as Jensen.

“Hey, if you can do it.”

“You can’t. You come out cranky. On the other hand, I am pleasant and warm.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” Jensen smiles but keeps walking and talking. “Look, she’s got two classes not far from here. Let’s swing over there.”

Jared snatches the schedule and reads line by line, deciphering abbreviations for class titles. “This looks pretty hoity toity. 374 Comm Reporting. Communications? Community? 364 In – ventory Reporting?”

“ _Investigative._ ”

“Huh,” Jared says before clucking his tongue. “Yeah, I should probably know that one.”

Jensen tips his head and nods. “Being a detective and all.”

“Right?” he smirks.

Jensen smirks, too, shaking his head and putting his sunglasses on as they step outside. “Good thing you got a cute face to offset the lack of brains.”

“You think I’m cute,” Jared says with a bump of his elbow and a teasing smile as they approach the car parked along State Street.

“Sure thing.”

“I _am_ a sure thing.”

Jensen slides behind the wheel as Jared slips into the passenger seat. “That’s why you wear day-old suits.”

Jared shrugs. “It was the closest thing.”

“Because walking down to your bedroom was too much for you?”

“At three in the morning, yeah, it is.”

  


Jared peeks into the window of a classroom where Samantha Price should be listening to her 300-level Journalism and the American Experience lecture.

Jensen sidles up to him, eyes roaming the room. He presses a fingertip to the glass, aiming far back into the room. “Back corner, second from the right.”

He turns to Jensen, catches how close they are and smiles at him. It gets sharper as he recognizes Jensen’s easy tone, which always precedes him finding something good. “Yeah, I see,” Jared says as he looks back inside the room.

“Light t-shirt while everyone else is in sweaters and jackets.” Jensen then pushes the photocopied sketch that Abel had helped create against the glass. It looks similar enough to be suspicious.

Jared pats Jensen’s back as he pushes away from the door and into the wall next to it. “You want him or the teacher?”

Jensen gets impossibly close to the window for a moment until students start looking over and then he backs up a few steps. His hands slip into his pockets and he looks at Jared. “Kid looks plenty awkward without me shaking him up.”

A bark of a laugh and then Jared puts his hands into his pockets and looks down the hallway. His phone buzzes and he takes it from his belt holster to read a text from the Lieutenant. “Beaver wants us back at the house _right_ when we’re done.”

“You think it got to the papers yet?”

Jared checks his watch and does the math from when the calls had started that morning. “I don’t know. It’s only been eight, nine hours.”

“Since you were on scene,” Jensen points outs. “Coroner’s sayin’ time of death may be midnight or earlier.”

He scratches down his jaw. “You really think they got it? In twelve hours.”

“They’ve done it with less.”

Both stand to attention and move from the doorway when students start gathering items and filing out, all watching Jared and Jensen watch them.

When the last kid, the one that Jensen eyed earlier and looks like their sketch, steps out, Jared nods at Jensen and falls into step behind the kid as Jensen enters the classroom.

Jared moves slow to keep pace and waits until the hallway’s clear enough to not make a fuss. For a minute, he logs the kid’s clothes: dirtied and wrinkled, way beyond worn-in, including the zip-up hoodie dangling from the side of his backpack. His jeans drag over a pair of running shoes, dusty and mud-stained. And he’s got more than a five o’clock shadow going on.

After his initial assessment, he speeds up to walk along with the kid, and clears his throat before speaking. “Hey, you got a few minutes?”

The kid looks over with a nervous bite of his lips and hard tug of his backpack, but he keeps walking without a word.

Jared takes a few quick steps to get in his way and flashes his badge. “Police. If you will, just a couple questions.”

He stops and looks up with wide eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”

A smile flashes on Jared’s face before he can stop it. _Right_. “Didn’t say you did.” He reaches inside his jacket to retrieve a picture of Samantha Price, two months ago at Christmas with a bright smile and long, shiny hair. Nothing like her current photos. “You know this girl? She’s in your class right there,” he says as he points towards the classroom.

His eyes barely flicker over the picture then to the room behind him. “She looks familiar,” he mumbles.

“You see her this morning?”

“No. Why?”

“Funny thing.” Jared softens his look to ease the boy. “I got more questions for her than I do for you,” he says as brings out his pocket notebook and a pen.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t in class?”

“We didn’t see her in there. When’s the last time you saw her?”

He shrugs and readjusts his backpack, fingers tight around the straps, and he struggles to meet Jared’s face. “I dunno. Thursday.”

“Yeah? What for?”

“Class.”

“What class?”

He finally looks up with a flat face, and the voice comes out level if not a little confused. “The one I just walked out of.”

Jared smirks and nods, like he was looking for that exact answer. “How do you like the class?”

“Why?”

Jared watches as the kid’s features tighten even more and the voice gets more defensive, and in return, Jared drops his voice to something even more gentle and open. “Just curious how it goes. If the teacher’s good? Other students? You like going here?”

“Why?” he asks, looking around, possibly for an escape. “You gonna transfer?” he asks with attitude in his tone.

Jared chuckles and flaps his notebook at his other hand. “Might be a little too late for me and continuing education.” He eyes the kid and gives a small smile. “What kinds of things you do for fun?”

“What?”

“I really like a good pizza, a couple pitchers of beer, a good basketball game. You see last night’s?”

“No, I don’t watch _basketball_ ,” he replies with more attitude than before.

“Man, it was a good one.” Jared smiles then gives a long look. “What’d you do last night?”

“I stayed in.”

“Hang out with some buddies? Maybe have a girl over?”

“I was at with my sister’s, why?” Jared’s seconds from asking if anyone can verify his whereabouts when the kid cuts in, “Why’re you asking so many questions?”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s your name? I didn’t even get your name.”

“Didn’t get yours either,” he says, eyes scrolling the area.

With a hand at his own chest, Jared gives an apologetic look. “No, you’re right. I’m Detective Padalecki. Chicago Police. Think I already said that, yeah? Maybe not. Either way, we’re looking for this girl. But you said you haven’t seen her?”

The kid shakes his head, and Jared again asks his name and laughs, “Should at least take you off the list so my partner doesn’t come bother you. He’s a lot more persistent than I am. You know, good cop, bad cop. He’s the bad one.”

He stares for a few long moments then slowly says, “Josh Bell.”

“Josh, alright. Cool to meet you,” Jared says easily with a forced shake of his hand. “Tell you what, I’ll give you my card and you call if something comes up or you remember seeing her?” He hands over a card and once Josh’s fingers close around it, Jared tugs it back. “Oh, wait, wrong one.” He chuckles, trying his best to ease the kid up before reaching into another pocket with his other hand. “Alright, this one’s good. Got a new title and I like to make sure it’s all shiny on the card,” he says with a broad grin as he hands it over.

Josh’s fingers close around the card and he tucks it into his back pocket. “Alright, yeah,” he says with an odd look. He looks up and down the hallway once more. “That it?”

Jared nods. “Sure.”

The kid can’t walk away fast enough and Jared tips his head as he watches him leave.

Jensen comes up to his side and nudges him. “Teacher said she’s straight As, good girl, almost _too_ much on the participation. But all around she sounds fine.”

“What about that guy?” Jared asks, nodding in the direction Josh Bell walked off.

“Didn’t know much about him. Quite the opposite, all quiet. What’d you get?”

“A bad feeling.” Then Jared flicks the first business card into the air between them. “And prints.”

Jensen’s mouth slowly curves into a wide smile and he playfully smacks Jared’s shoulder. “I like the way you work. Let’s get it back to Evidence and get a car on the kid.”

Jared follows, pulling his sunglasses out of his hair to slip them on when they step back into the bright sun beaming off the snow that hasn’t melted from the grass in days. “We should get Uno’s tonight.”

“For what,” Jensen asks with a sharp glance.

“Special occasion pizza.”

“Oh, hot shot thinks he’s done?” Jensen says with a laugh.

“We _are_ undefeated for the year.”

“It’s February. Give us time to screw it up, okay?” Jensen suggests with a high eyebrow.

  


“I’m assuming you broke the streak last night?” Tal says with a smirk as she steps up to the Evidence counter, eying Jared on the other side.

He presses his hip against the booth and smiles. “Now, why would you say that?”

“Your charming personality is a tell for you getting laid.”

For a second, Jared looks affronted. “I am _always_ charming.”

“Sure you are, champ,” she says, barely hiding a smile. “What was it? A month?”

He flicks an eyebrow and looks wholly unimpressed as he spins back to the data sheet in front of him. His hand scratches out details for the business card with Josh Bell’s fingerprints he’s turning in. “Nearly two. Joanna Kelley had a lot of enemies.”

“Don’t know how you do it. There’s no way I could hold out.”

“Tradition, Lon.”

“You mean superstition?”

He snorts and glances at her for a moment before going back to his paperwork. “Okay, maybe a li’l of that, too.”

“No wonder you can’t keep a good girl. I’d never wait out that long for you to solve a case.”

Jared does his best to ignore it, but he hears Jensen’s voice growing closer before the guy breaks off a conversation and greets Tal. He shifts enough to watch Jensen from the corner of his eye, see him stand casually with his feet slightly parted, hands in his pants’ pockets, and an easy smile in place as he and Tal joke together. Jared shakes his head and distantly wonders how he ever gets his job done with Jensen right there.

Tal’s charming Jensen in the way she always does, voice slipping out on smooth jokes, tapping at his shoulder or arm, and tugging hair over her shoulder. “You seem to be in an incredibly good mood today, too. Don’t tell me you follow Jared’s li’l _tradition_ as well.”

Jensen chuckles and swats at the back of Jared’s shoulder in greeting. “Seems like it. Just never any time for anything.”

She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “You guys are ridiculous. I don’t know how you can even solve a case when you’re not getting laid.”

“Some call it incentive,” Jensen says with a smirk.

Jared smirks, too, cheeks warming and belly flipping a bit. He gives Jensen another look, and his partner eyes him right back with a small smile.

“You done yet?” Jensen asks. “Lieu’s waiting on us.”

“Yeah, sure, one sec,” he replies while scribbling his name, badge number, and Precinct number at the bottom of the form. He flicks the top of the pen with a flourish and a broad grin before slipping it into the inside pocket of his suit coat. “Ready and set.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile that Jared latches onto as they nod to Tal and head back to Beaver’s office.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jared starts with a light hand at Jensen’s back.

“You got a problem with my coffee, you can start bringing it.”

Jared chuckles. “No, not that.”

“If it’s driving, you can forget that, too.”

They stop outside Beaver’s door and Jared stares at Jensen with high eyebrows, waiting for his partner to listen seriously.

Jensen takes a deep breath, tucks his hands into his pockets, and stands steady. “Okay, sorry,” he says with a soft voice. “Hit me.”

“Ackles. Padalecki,” Beaver says low and almost with a forced plea as he pulls the door open. “Would you two please come inside for a minute?”

Jared looks between his boss and his partner, confused with this version of Beaver.

Patting Jared’s back, Jensen flashes him a warm smile and says, “We’ll talk later.”

They both stall as soon as they face forward and Beaver settles at the front edge of his desk with a surprisingly comforting frown peeking out from behind his thick beard. Beaver looks between the detectives and a couple seated in the arm chairs before him.

Jared and Jensen both stand at near-attention, doing their best for respect with company in the room. Jared clears his throat and softly prompts, “Sir.”

“Detectives,” Beaver nods with a low voice. “This here is Alderman and Mrs. Price. I asked them to come in to see us in order to keep some peace on this sensitive matter.”

They each take a second to process the statement before Jared eases up and steps forward to shake hands and share condolences. It’s another few seconds for Jensen, who’s not fully in the moment until Mrs. Price warmly says, “Oh, thank God it’s you.”

“It’s who?” Jared asks quietly as he turns to see Mrs. Price envelop Jensen in a hug.

Jensen hugs back, face closed off and dipping down near her shoulder. His voice is pitched low but Jared can still hear him murmur, “It’s okay. We’ll find out what happened.”

Jared keeps watching, frozen in his spot as Alderman Price steps forward and firmly shakes Jensen’s hand with a stiff nod and wide eyes, like he’s trying hard to not close them in fear of tears breaking free.

“Jensen, it’s been a long time.”

There’s a short nod from Jensen and a barely-there _yes sir_ , and Jared’s speechless at the matter.

“Damn glad it’s you, son.” Price nods at Jensen. “I know you care just as much as us about what happens.”

Jensen clears his throat with another small nod and a steady look. “Yes, sir. I do.”

Jared spends the next fifteen minutes listening to Jensen and Beaver question the Prices.

 _Did Samantha say anything about anyone giving her trouble?_

 _Has she had issues with anyone at school?_

 _At the paper?_

 _Can you think of anyone who would be trying to get to you?_

Jared can’t formulated questions of his own or even words to butt in because his mind keeps spinning around the fact that the Prices know Jensen. Which means Jensen _knows_ their victim.

Statutes and ethics flash through Jared’s mind as he considers how many conflict of interest seminars he’s been forced into that discussed this very thing.

By the time he can catch up to the conversation, the Prices are sharing a photo they’re authorizing the department to use, and are quietly asking it all be kept under the rug in respect for the family. Jared nods with the room, and when Jensen finally gives him a hard look, Jared breaks his silence and shakes both of the Prices’ hands.

“You think of anything, you give us call,” Jared says with his usual comforting voice while handing over his card.

“Day or night,” Jensen adds with a solemn nod and his own card.

Once the Prices are gone, all of their controlled grief dissipates and Beaver stands before them. “Don’t think I need to tell you boys how big this is?”

“No, sir,” Jensen replies in a steady tone.

“You know them,” Jared blurts out.

Both Jensen and Beaver take a moment to consider Jared, but neither actually replies to him. Jensen turns to their boss and quickly says, “We okay to go now?”

“Yeah. Just,” Beaver sighs, tapping his desk. “Get this thing done. And _quietly_ , please? We have cover from the press for only so long. Make it last. They’ve been eying the Alderman for months on questions of ethics and bribes. They’d love to extend that attention to his daughter.”

Jensen nods and leaves the office and Jared in it. Jared eyes Beaver long enough that the Lieutenant has to roughly sigh and motion to the door for Jared to leave.

Only, he doesn’t. He looks right at Beaver and asks as levelly as possible, “You really okay with this? He _knows_ them.”

Beaver rolls his eyes and sighs, but it sounds more weary than annoyed. “I don’t have much choice… The Prices insist he stay on.” He motions at the door again, tiredly saying, “Now if you don’t mind.”

In the hallway, following Jensen, Jared latches a hand around Jensen’s elbow but keeps walking with him. “You know them.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know them?”

Jensen looks between Jared and his elbow and then carefully extracts it. “Jon knows a lot of people.”

Jared’s eyebrows go high and he stands up straight. “First name basis, that’s nice, Jensen. You ever think of telling your _partner_ that you know the dead girl?”

He swallows hard and quickly glances around the area, pausing to let a few street officers pass them and then leave them alone in the hallway again. It’s long enough that Jared can see he’s annoyed and it’s with Jared. He can then hear when Jensen’s voice is trained steady and low, and while Jared appreciates that Jensen’s trying to remain calm, he hates that Jensen _has to_ remain calm at the moment.

“You mean the _victim_?” Jensen corrects.

“How do you know the _victim_ , Jensen?” Jared asks with a bit of an edge.

Jensen glances around, this time looking anxious instead of frustrated with Jared.

Jared tips his head and examines Jensen. He uses his stern but leading tone, one usually reserved for interrogation. “You looked pretty cozy, Jen. Hugging the _victim’s mom_ , calling the father by his _first name_. It’s not all just casual, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Jensen answers clearly yet quietly in an attempt to lower the volume on their conversation.

“What is it then?” Jensen bites into his lips and Jared keeps staring, even leaning closer while he waits for an answer that won’t come. “What is it, Jensen? How do you know them?”

“I grew up with them.”

“And?”

“I dated their daughter.”

Jared’s mouth drops and he gets harsh. “You dated the _victim_. Didn’t think to mention that at all, huh?”

“Calm down–”

Jared rushes on immediately with a hushed whisper. “No, I’m not gonna calm down. You dated our _murder victim_ and you were gonna carry on with the case like you didn’t know any better? Fucking hell, Jen.”

Jensen steps up quickly, taking over Jared’s space with his hands easing over Jared’s shoulders then up to hold his neck. “Hey, seriously, _calm down_. Okay? It wasn’t Samantha.”

“But they–” Jared stalls with the memory of Samantha Price’s file. Every photo of her as a young adult showed her flanked by parents and two brothers. “There’s only one daughter.”

Jensen’s hands ease up, fingers coasting lightly over Jared’s neck and then dipping into his hair, tangling in the ends a little. Jared fights a shiver but fully acknowledges that it’s suddenly warm and he feels like he should be a little less worked up over the complication.

Finally, Jared admits with a strained frown, “I’m confused.”

“It was Sophia.”

Jared’s shaking his head until Jensen’s eyes shirk away and his voice drops.

“She died.”

Before they even make it to the oak bar and mismatched stools, Jensen detours towards the bathroom and tells Jared to order him an extra of whatever he’s having. It gives Jared a few moments to loosen up, take in the bar they’ve never stepped foot in before and is strangely empty for it being after five. He also lets his mind wander with the nagging worry that Jensen _knows_ their victim and hadn’t bothered to tell him before.

He downs most of his Coors Light while Jensen’s gone, and keeps sipping while he tries to figure out how to deal with Jensen.

“I’m your partner,” Jared says when Jensen sits beside him and sips from his own beer, barely hiding a wince at the flavor. Jared shifts towards him. “I would think that this kind of information is vital early on, you know?”

“We haven’t even hit twenty-four hours yet. It _is_ early on.”

Jared stares at Jensen, daring him with obvious frustration to keep joking.

“Okay, sorry. Look,” Jensen says with a level tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, okay? I didn’t do it maliciously or for any reason other than I want to nail someone for this and move on.”

Jared shifts for a moment, and when Jensen’s hand settles on Jared’s knee and smooths over his pants, he breathes calmly and lets his real frustration out. “You’ve been lying to me all day. From the second I said it was Samantha Price, you lied to me about knowing her.”

Jensen nudges Jared so they fully face each other, legs slotting between one another, and his hand slips up to Jared’s hip. “I didn’t lie.” He frowns and adds, “Not on purpose.”

“By omission,” Jared points out, ignoring the slight sting leaking through his voice. “If you were a suspect, I swear to God, Jensen, you wouldn’t last long on this.”

His lips quirk then he stands to get even closer to Jared. “I know, okay? And I’m sorry.” He sweeps a hand over the side of Jared’s face, and Jared subconsciously moves into the touch before flinching away.

“What happened to her?” Jared asks, trying hard to keep his wits about him. He refuses to let Jensen off the hook for this; he goes so far as to steel his eyes to Jensen’s while Jensen just shrugs.

“We were kinda serious. I had a ring, but she wasn’t a fan of the Department. Thought I’d get hurt or something. But I still kept in touch with the family for awhile.”

“Kinda serious,” Jared snorts lightly. He shakes his head and breathes deep. “I’m talking about _her_. What happened to Sophia?”

“I don’t know. An accident, I guess. She washed up in Belmont Harbor one morning.”

Jared freezes and stares at Jensen, even as the guy closes into himself and shifts back to his own stool. “You don’t think that sounds familiar?”

“What? No,” he responds, distracted, then gets more forceful, “No. Not familiar. Not in the slightest. It was an accident. She’d been there with some friends. She always went there late at night with a big crowd. She drowned and that’s it.”

“When?”

Jensen shrugs and squints off towards the bartender cleaning glasses at the far end. “A while. Maybe ten, twelve years?”

“We’ve been partners for four years now and ...” When Jensen looks back at him, Jared tries the easiest tone possible, but he knows he fails. “You never told me about _any_ of this.”

“It wasn’t important before.”

Jared stares, eyes wide and heart racing at the thought. He finally breaks with his frustration and pain. “You being nearly engaged wasn’t _important_ before?” He sees Jensen struggling to counter it, so he stands and sighs roughly. “Fuck you. Seriously. Fuck you and your omissions and your lying.”

“Jay,” Jensen says, soothingly, while grabbing at Jared’s arm to stop him from stepping too far away. “Hey, c’mon, it’s not a big deal.”

He stops and glares. “Not a big deal? You know the family, know the girl. You’re on the top ten list of people I’d question.”

“So question me.” Jensen spreads his hands out and centers himself on the barstool with a calm smile. “Go ahead, whatever you wanna know, I’ll tell you.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Jared sighs, finally drinking again from his bottle, downing it as Jensen chuckles lightly. He wants to fire back, but there’s a gleam in Jensen’s eyes that eases a bit of the tension.

There is much more fight left in Jared’s system, questions to be asked and answers to reveal. But he fails to qualify _right now_ as the time to clear the air. Especially when they’re in the middle of a case that’s on the clock.

Jared shakes his head and brings his bottle to his mouth before saying, “See, here I am, wasting valuable detective time arguing with your dumb ass, and you’re mocking the whole thing.”

“You hear anything on Josh Bell?”

He’s barely alarmed by Jensen’s shift in attitude. This is something they always do: slide right back into business. “Ferris says it’ll be another twenty-four for the rush on the autopsy, and Benedict promised me prints back the day after.”

“So, we wait.” Jared looks over to Jensen and can’t manage to take his eyes off him, especially when Jensen’s looking right back with an easy glance and tiny, warm smile. “And relax. We can relax, Jared.”

“You wanna relax on a case for your in-laws?”

“For right now, I wanna relax with my partner,” Jensen clarifies.

“Is that why you chose a bar we don’t know anyone at?”

“I didn’t exactly want to have this conversation with company,” he says with a sideways glance. “Did you?”

“No. Of course not.” Jared spins his empty bottle between his fingers and watches the water rings cross each other on the bartop. “I just don’t feel much like drinking right now.”

“You drinkin’ that quickly says otherwise,” Jensen says with a smirk. “We can head out.”

“You gonna finish yours?”

Jensen rolls his eyes at the bottle. “Right. Last time you’ve seen me drink beer?”

“You said you’d have what I was having,” Jared returns with his own smirk, feeling a small bit of victory at forcing beer onto Jensen when it really has been years since Jensen had openly ordered one for himself.

“So you taught me a lesson. Next time I’m ordering.”

“For a guy who mainlines cheap coffee, you’re awfully touchy with your alcohol.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and drops a ten and a five on the bar, smile still in place. “You done gloating?”

  


Jared’s back slams into the fridge, lips mush and brain even worse off as he fights between his brain starving for oxygen – heck, common sense – and his heart pumping all blood south. “On a case,” he mumbles between kisses.

“I don’t care,” Jensen says as he shoves his hands up the back of Jared’s shirt, crushing their bodies and mouths together. “It’s your stupid rule.”

He still tries to slink away from Jensen, but Jensen’s hands are tight against Jared’s skin, and he whines at him.

“Just think of it as mutual masturbation.”

Jared chuckles before he can stop it. “Last night not enough for you?” Jared asks with a smirk as he turns his head away to stop Jensen’s tongue from getting to him. But then Jensen sucks along his jaw until he reaches the patch along his neck that always forces Jared to rethink everything.

At Jared’s quiet moan, Jensen smiles into Jared’s skin. “Consider it my making ammends.”

“For what?” Jared asks absently as he watches Jensen’s hand lift up the front of his shirt and mold over the curve of his chest. _Perfect fit_ , he thinks to himself when Jensen’s hand slides across Jared’s ribs, fingers slipping between the grooves of his muscles.

Jensen returns to Jared’s mouth, kissing long and wide with a slick, intent tongue. “For lying,” he says in between kisses. “By omission.”

Jared nods at that, still trying to force his brain to ignore Jensen’s assault, because he really hasn’t broken his rule for no sex during a job since he solved his first major case _years_ ago in Narcotics, and with the Price case being so high-profile, he doesn’t want to chance it, and he says so.

Jensen chuckles low and dirty while tugging Jared’s hips close, forcing them to rub together. “It’s not sex,” he argues playfully.

“I never let you get away with that before. You really think I’ll start now?”

“We’ll keep our clothes on, won’t even touch each other.” To make his point, Jensen leads Jared to the counter then moves in tight, hands far from Jared as they grab the edge of the countertop, but his hips slot with Jared’s and he grinds into him. “No hands,” he smirks with his mouth just inches away.

“You are the worst.”

“Not what you said last night,” Jensen points out with a hard drag of his body. He smiles at Jared’s broken curses.

“You didn’t even stay.” Jared starts rambling on, convincing himself that if he keeps talking, he can stay off track of how hard he is, or how hard Jensen is, or how hard they are together as Jensen continues to grind on him. “Ran off in the middle of the night. Didn’t even leave a note. I woke up and you were gone.”

Jensen’s head slides next to Jared’s, panting into his ear and shifting to rub into the flat plane of his hip. “Got the call. You were dead to the world, and I had to go home to change.”

“Stay tonight,” Jared says on a hush, nudging Jensen’s temple with his own.

“I’ll think about it.”

Outside of their panting, they both fall quiet as Jared fights to not move, but when Jensen starts to lose his rhythm and his harsh breathing flips into choked groans, Jared holds Jensen’s waist and feels the stutter of hips as Jensen comes.

Jensen breathes heavy in Jared’s ear as he attempts to steady himself, Jared still holding him around the waist. “You didn’t come yet,” Jensen says on a gravelly whisper.

“I have standards to live by,” Jared sighs. “I can’t break them right now.”

“You really don’t want to?” Jensen asks as he looks up at Jared, eyes blown wide and green, and Jared can’t help but stare right into them.

Jared swallows hard and dry, and a flash of pride rises at the idea that while he is currently _very hard_ , he is also _very dry_.

“Why’re you trying to ruin my record?”

With a shake of his head, Jensen snorts and shifts away. “I’m getting sympathy pains from your blue balls, Jay.” Then he rubs a hand under Jared’s shirt, up his chest and back down in a well-known pattern. “You finish up in the bathroom and I’ll go change.”

In the bathroom, Jared jerks fast and hard with a hand pressed into the wall above the toilet as he re-lives Jensen in the kitchen: the feel of his body rutting up against his own, the sounds of his cut-off groans, and the wet warmth in his pants when he came.

Jared groans loudly and pitches forward, heaving over the toilet and shooting over his hand with heavy breaths.

“Should’ve let me help,” Jensen murmurs low from the doorway.

Jared smiles through the euphoria and rests his head against his forearm. “Think you did enough.” He cleans himself up and shakes his head. “Thought you were going to bed.”

“Like I could ignore your filthy mouth,” Jensen chuckles as he turns from the doorframe and heads back into the bedroom.

When Jared crawls under the covers, he slides close to Jensen, who rolls to face him. Jared glares from under sleepy eyelids, and grumbles, “I could kill you for your little escapade in the kitchen.”

Jensen smiles and closes his eyes while shifting and digging his head into the pillow. “You loved it, don’t lie.”

They fall quiet, but Jared knows enough about Jensen to recognize that his breathing is still uneven as his shoulders twitch, trying to get more comfortable.

“We should check out Bell in the morning,” Jared suggests quietly.

“Harris and Collins are watching him.”

“Really?” he asks, raising his head a little and watching Jensen’s mouth flip through a tiny smile.

“You said you wanted a tail on him.”

“You ain’t as bad as I thought.”

“Been trying to tell you that.” Jensen softly clears his throat and slides his head down the pillow, chin to his chest and Jared knows that signals that Jensen’s ready to slip into sleep.

Hours later, Jared lifts off his belly and onto his elbows as he stares at the other side of the mattress. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he murmurs to the blank pillow.

  


Jared steps up to the side door and ignores the few reporters hanging at the nearby corner, asking if he knows about other cases. He fumbles with a large paper bag and a drink crate while trying to work the door. He looks over his shoulder with a grimace. “You gonna help or what?”

“Looks like you got it,” Jensen replies as he strolls from the sedan.

“I’ll eat your sandwich. I’ve got no problems with taking your lunch.”

“That’s fine by me. You know I hate Mr. Sub.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “You eat it every time I buy.”

“Yeah, when you buy,” Jensen points out as he reaches for the door handle.

“Padalecki,” comes from a shrewd yet recognizable voice.

“Ackles,” adds a second, equally sharp and equally known voice.

Jared and Jensen share a look and both roll their eyes as they turn in place and address the two guys behind them. “Tweedle Dumb,” Jared smiles.

“And Tweedle Dumber,” Jensen adds with the same amused smile. “Ain’t seen you two in a while.”

Jared puts on a fake caring voice. “How goes the streets, Buckley? You two catch yourselves a big beat yet?”

“As a matter of fact, we did,” Buckley returns with quick bob of his head. “You’re looking at the new Woodward and Bernstein.”

“Like the Bears?” Jensen asks with a curious glance. “My nephew loves those books. Mama and Papa and the two kids. Charming little fam.”

“Wow, you’re so _funny_ ,” Wester says with a sarcastic look.

Jensen grins at Jared. “I know, right?”

Jared nods with a pat to Jensen’s back. “He _is_ particularly funny.” He faces Jensen and suggests, “You should tell him about the priest, the rabbi, and the Mormon.”

Jensen points at him with interest but Wester cuts in, “How about you tell us about Price? Why was the Alderman here yesterday?”

Jared and Jensen share a quick look then both frown with faked sympathy. “Really wish I could tell ya,” Jared says. “But one of my informants,” he leads on while leaning in close to the two reporters, who are suddenly fascinated and leaning close as well. “Guy tells me that they’re gonna paint the lobby and asked Jon Price for some color swatches. I think they’re going with plum.”

“Mauve,” Jensen corrects.

“Oh, right. Yeah. They’re so close on the color wheel,” Jared smiles while turning his hands together to mimic it all.

“I don’t care if it’s _chartreuse_ , something’s goin’ on,” Buckley shoots back.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not chartreuse,” Jared says with an odd nod. “Beaver’s not big on greens. But I’ll keep you abreast of the situation. Okay?”

Before more can be said, Jensen swiftly opens the door and guides Jared inside, shutting it behind them in an instant. He leans back on the wall and looks at Jared with wide eyes. “They got it.”

Jared immediately thinks of Harris and Collins and their twelve-hour shifts outside Bell’s apartment, not to mention Hodges and Kane’s on the other end of the clock. There was no news there, nor from other background searches into the Prices’ history, so he’s clueless as to what the papers could have. “But how much?”

“I don’t know. But this isn’t good.”

  


“You know you’ve always been my favorite of all the coroners,” Jared’s saying when Jensen steps into the room.

Jensen smirks at him and shakes his head as Ferris is doing the same. “She got something good?”

“Better than good.” Ferris nods with a snort. “What d’you think I’m doing here? Just loggin’ bodies?”

“I heard for every hundred you get a set of steak knives,” Jensen says idly while tampering down his smile.

She laughs and shakes her head, moving around the side of the table with Samantha Price on medical display. “I wish, boy. You have no clue how bad my kitchen is.”

“Kinda ironic, huh?” Jared asks Jensen across the table. “Coroner with crappy knives?”

Ferris tsks. “If you wanna waste time working on your Second City routine, go right ahead. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“What d’you got?” Jensen asks as he looks down on the pale body.

“The bruising along her neck is consistent with being strangled.”

“Kinda early for that, no?” Jared asks, remembering how clear the marks were when they first saw the body.

“I’d say she was dead before she hit the water, hours before. The water was warmer than I’d thought, enough to keep the body longer than I first calculated.” She slips to the side of the table. “Contusions along her temple, collar bone, and forearms,” she says as she carefully lifts Price’s wrist and turns the hand over. “Some skin and fibers under her nails. This girl was a fighter.”

“Enough for DNA?” Jensen asks.

Ferris gives Jensen a long look. “What do you think?”

“I think Jared’s right. You’re a damn fine coroner.”

“I said she was my favorite, to be exact,” Jared points out.

“You run it yet?” Jensen asks, glancing up from the body.

“Already in the system, kid. Give it a few days and we’ll see if we got something.”

“You get a match,” Jared says with a smile. “And you’ll be more than my favorite coroner. You’ll be my favorite County worker.”

“Be still my heart,” she replies in a flat tone.

  


Jared’s phone rings and he smacks at his bedside table to shut it up. Instead, it smacks to the floor and keeps on ringing.

Hanging over the side of the bed, he snatches it up and opens it. “What?”

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Jensen smiles across the line.

“What?” he repeats, voice equally gruff and dry.

“Benedict’s got a match on prints at the bridge and on some of Price’s possessions.”

“Yeah?” he asks, distracted, as he rolls back up onto the bed and flings his head back into the pillows.

“And Ferris says hairs under the nails point to blond.”

Jared clears his throat and forces his mind to think straight. Josh Bell’s blond.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says playfully. “I was looking for my partner. Thought he might wanna solve a murder.”

“Sounds like you already did.”

“Are you letting me take he credit? I’ll do it, you know I will.”

Jared chuckles low and scrubs a hand over his face. “You got a match at the bridge?”

“Prints on the railings. Guess who?”

Jared sleepily grins. “I’m thinkin’ Josh Bell. You on your way?”

“I’m almost to the station, but I’ll save you a seat at the front of the class.”

“Grab me some coffee,” he says, and then he quickly adds, “The good stuff.”

  


Jared drops onto the nearest, cleanest desk and rolls his head, stretching his neck and shoulders as he tries in earnest to fully wake up.

“Nice suit,” Tal taunts as she passes by.

“You like?” he smirks.

“You look clean for once. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Kiss my ass, Lon,” he says with a smile.

He closes his eyes and his brain drifts off, ignoring the soft din of only a handful of detectives in the room, all working on their own cases and rightfully ignoring Jared. He steadies his breathing and rests his eyes as he waits for the inevitable rush.

“Where’s Padalecki?” Beaver belts out as he enters the room. “Oh, alright. You’re early.”

“Got a wake-up call. So I woke up,” he slowly smiles. “We got prints and hair?”

“Benedict is pretty certain on DNA as well,” Beaver says with a small smile and a pat at Jared’s back.

Jensen appears just behind Beaver and slips a covered cup of coffee around the Lieutenant to Jared. “He said it’s a preliminary lock.”

Beaver jumps and glares at Jensen. “What’ve I said about you sneakin’ up on people?”

Jensen smirks in return then looks over Beaver’s shoulder to grab Jared’s attention. “He said he’ll need something from Bell to verify, but they picked up a li’l something from your card.”

Jared nods, sips from the cup, and then stalls. There’s a dark, smokey taste to the coffee. It’s good, _real_ good. He slowly looks to Jensen with a curious smile.

Jensen winks in return, saluting with his cup.

Beaver nods to them both. “Go find Bell, but don’t spook the kid.”

“Of course not,” Jared says as he stands.

  


Jensen rings the bell for a third time and raises an eyebrow at Jared. After an immediate stop to Bell's apartment building came up empty, they’d spent most of the daylight hours traipsing across DePaul’s campus looking for Bell in classrooms and the library and every hidden study area they could find. Their next bet was that he’d never gone to school and was possibly back home.

Jared shrugs. “Collins said no one fitting his description has left the building for since they started their shift five hours ago.”

They both look back onto the street where an unmarked car sits with Harris and Collins inside. “Is it possible he was distracted?”

Jared snorts and looks up the side of the vintage four-story complex. “With Harris riding shot-gun, I’m sure he was.”

The front door opens and an elderly woman steps out with a small yet strained smile as she shuffles around them. Jensen slips his foot between the door and its frame with a pleased look. “Let’s go.”

At the door to Bell’s apartment, Jared knocks and keeps his eyes trained on the golden numbers identifying it as 305 while Jensen looks up and down the hallway. After a second knock, Jared looks around, too, and hums.

“You hear anything?” Jensen asks, and Jared’s fully aware that Jensen wants him to walk down this road and later report there were suspicious noises from inside that called for forced entry.

Jared gives him a cautious look. “I wish I could say yes, but we’re not stormin’ the castle just yet.”

Jensen sighs and straightens his back as he knocks. “One of these days you’re gonna wish you could lie with the best of them.”

“Okay, Dirty Harry.”

Jared knocks again, but they don’t wait much more until they both walk away. But then they snap to attention when the door flies open with a rushed, “Jesus, can’t a girl shave her legs in peace?”

The woman at the door is a meager five feet of petite attitude with a hand at her hip and her stance leaning to the right. Jared does his best to not look surprised – or disappointed – that it’s not Josh Bell.

“Can I _help_ you?” she asks.

Jensen stands tall but gives a comforting smile. “I’m sorry, but does Josh Bell live here?”

“Not exactly. But sure, I guess. There’s a couch with his name on it and he has a mailing address. What’d my brother do now?”

Jared pulls his badge out and holds it up while Jensen follows suit. “We need him to answer a few questions about a friend of his. You know where we can find him?”

“Not since Monday morning.”

Jensen looks at Jared from the corner of his eye before he asks, “So you weren’t home together on Monday night?”

“I was. He wasn’t. Why? He in trouble or something?”

“I’m Detective Padalecki. What’s your name?” Jared asks with a quick smile while putting his hand out to shake.

She warily takes it and slowly says, “Kristen. Why’re you here?”

“This is his address on file at school,” Jensen points out easily.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Is he staying somewhere else?” Jared asks.

“Staying, not staying, whatever. I don’t know anything about a school, though.”

Jared eyes Jensen and then her. “He doesn’t go to DePaul?”

“What did he do?” she asks with slow force.

When Kristen’s attention flips over Jared’s shoulder, Jared turns and Jensen shifts around him to see Josh Bell in the stairwell, eyes like a deer caught in headlights and bag clutched tight over his shoulder.

Jared lets his voice slip soft and friendly. “Hey, Josh. You got a few minutes?”

Josh looks between all three of them and as Jared walks closer, his shoulders huddle in and he takes a step down.

“Just got a couple more questions about your class. It’s not a big deal,” Jared says with a smile.

Tense, silent seconds pass between them all before Josh spins and runs back the way he came.

Jared immediately speeds forward with Jensen right behind him. They see Josh hit the ground level, racing through the hallway and out the back door.

“Go ‘round front!” Jared shouts as he chases after Josh and charges through the nearly closing back door. He pops outside and sees Josh tripping for a few steps before pulling himself up and over a chainlink fence.

Jared’s long legs let him take the fence just as quickly, up and over, and he easily lands in the alley before charging after Josh, who doesn’t even bother looking back as he runs off.

Just before the alley breaks onto the street, Jensen charges into view and smacks the kid right into the side of the brick corner building. He shoves a knee at each of Josh’s legs to separate them while he holds Josh’s arm high into his own back.

Josh struggles in the hold and pushes back on Jensen. But Jared pushes Josh’s other shoulder into the wall then kicks his foot against each of Josh’s to spread his legs even further.

Jared harshly chuckles while he pats up Josh’s legs to search him. “Now, why’d you have to run? I just wanted to talk.”

“Get the fuck off of me!” Josh shouts as he continues to fight against Jensen.

Jared stands up and frowns at Jensen and then Josh. “Hey, I don’t see why we gotta be harsh.”

“Screw you.”

Jensen flicks out his cuffs and snaps them around each of Josh’s wrists and hauls him up against the wall again. “Don’t know why you always wanna be nice to the criminals,” Jensen grumbles at Jared. “They’re never very nice to you.”

“I’m not a criminal!” Josh shouts as he continues to fight against Jensen.

Jared grabs Josh’s shoulder and wraps his other hand around the chain of the cuffs to yanks him away from the building. “Sure you’re not. I bet it’s all just a misunderstanding.”

  


“You’re doing real good, Josh. I’ve never had someone give me the silent treatment for four hours straight. I’m actually kind of impressed.”

Jared chuckles at Jensen and adds on, “Except for the fact that he’s totally guilty.”

Josh shoots Jared an ugly look.

Jared raises his hands with a curious smile. “Are you not? Because you haven’t said so yet.” He slides a chair out from the table and flips it around so he can sit and rest his arms across the back with his chin to his wrist. “I mean, yeah, there’s innocent ‘til proven guilty. But it’s kind of obvious here.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Give the kid a break. He didn’t officially break any laws yet. Except for evading an officer. Which, you know, is pretty weak.” He stalls at the odd glance Josh gives him. “Well, it is. If you wanna do something big with your life it should be more than trying to out run us. We’re pretty fast, Josh.”

“Some would say too fast,” Jared says with a cocky grin. “I mean, the way my partner here crashed right into you, shoved you into that wall like it was nothing? That’s pretty sad. I’d be fighting for my pride right now.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Jensen asks with an obviously fake, careful tone. “I’m sorry if I did, but I was just trying to make sure you didn’t get out into the street and hurt yourself. I’d hate for you to run right into oncoming traffic. Had to stop you somehow.”

Jared clucks his tongue and smarts back, “I dunno, Jensen. I think a car doing forty would stop him pretty quick in his tracks.” He sighs wistfully and shifts away from the chair, hands tight at the seatback. “Too bad though. Would make our jobs a lot easier. Less evidence to log. Wouldn’t have to testify in court. You’re kind of wasting my time now.”

“Supposed to be the nice one,” Josh mumbles angrily.

Jensen and Jared both pause before leaning in together. “Sorry?” Jared asks. “Are you talking to us now? You’re not invoking your right to remain silent?”

“I thought you were the _nice one_ ,” he spits out at Jared with a nasty glare.

Jared laughs. “Now, when did I ever say that?”

“You said he was the bad cop,” Josh says as he motions towards Jensen, but it’s a small gesture with his hands cuffed to the table top.

“Bad cop?” Jensen asks Jared with a small smile. “Really? Do people still play that game?”

Jared shrugs with an unimpressed face as he stands and roams the room.

“Hate to break it to ya, Josh,” Jensen says with a wry smile. “But there’re no good or bad cops. We’re all the same.”

“Except us,” Jared butts in with his hands resting at Jensen’s back so they both stare at Josh and then sharply smile in tandem. “ _We’re_ different from the others.”

“Sure are,” Jensen agrees.

Banging erupts from the other side of the one-way mirror and they all turn to look at it, yet only catch their reflections. Jared can imagine Beaver rolling his eyes and shaking his head in the next room.

Jared pats Jensen’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of that. You keep Josh company and maybe get a confession outta him?”

Jensen nods with false conviction. “I’ll try my best.”

Once Jared’s through the door, Beaver is spinning the volume knob to mute Jensen and Bell’s conversation. He sighs at Jared and shakes his head. “You two gonna waste the whole forty-eight hours we got with him on your stupid sideshow act? Or you wanna get yourselves a killer?”

“Lieu, it’s past midnight, and we’re barely getting four hours of sleep a night. We’re a little slaphappy.”

“You get something outta that boy or I slap you unhappy. You got it?”

Jared chuckles a bit uneasily but nods as he faces the glass and watches Jensen leaning towards Bell, _rather_ close, and talking while Bell keeps shaking his head and frowning.

Another door swings open and Jared and Beaver both turn to see the new member of the room, but then Jared’s rolling his eyes. “Oh, thank God. The _law’s_ here.”

Assistant District Attorney Welling swipes a hand down his tie and realigns his jacket as he smirks at them. “I know. You were all lost before I got here.”

“Right. You’re quite the hero,” Jared says in a flat tone. Then he stands straight, shoulder pressed into the window frame and smirking. “Except with the mishap in the Kelley press conference. What was it you said? She _allegedly_ concerned herself with members of Carlson’s crew, who you claim were tied in with the Daleys? Aligning organized crime with the Mayor. Smart move.”

Welling bristles for a moment but doesn’t change the cocky tone of voice. “Whatever. It’s all done and gone. Hanson got twenty-five and I got another tick on the board.”

“Right,” Jared chuckles bitterly. “As long as it’s on your agenda.”

Welling steps closer to the glass, hands sweeping his jacket back like a cape before he smirks at the sight of Jensen still engaged in conversation with Bell. His hands are firm on his waist and he nods forward. “What’ve we got so far?”

“Kid wasn’t talking before I left the room.”

“Funny how Jensen plays good cop better than you do.”

Jared glares at Welling, but it’s Beaver who nudges the ADA. out of the way. “We’re covering it. Jensen’s in there and Jared will get back, too. My boys’ll get you what you need.”

“However you do it,” Welling says with a finger pointed at Jared. “You do it fast. I need to wrap this up for the Alderman as quickly as possible. I’m tired of waiting on you to get me something to work with.”

“Waiting on me?” Jared asks with offense as he steps closer.

“The press are all over the Alderman for those supposed bribes. I don’t need anything else clouding up this case.”

“And that’s my fault?”

“Could be.” Welling’s teeth are bared in a wolfish grin and his eyes are sharp on Jared as he dares Jared to keep going, but Jared doesn’t speak more. He tips his head and purses his lips. “Right then. You do your job so I can do mine, alright? I’m tired of people taking their time and then losing.”

Any smart reply is cut off when Jensen slips out of the Interrogation Room and smirks at them

  


Jared slides a chair in front of the thirteen-inch TV in the corner of Beaver’s office and immediately turns the volume up so he can better hear Jensen speak to Bell.

 _You know we have evidence that points right at you. We found prints at the bridge where Samantha was. You were there. You saw her in the water, didn’t you?_

 _No._

 _Josh. There are fingerprints. You can’t lie about this. What happened?_

There’s a push to Jensen’s voice, just an extra bit of emotion forcing itself through his words as he’s leading Bell through the confession. Jensen’s usually flat with the suspects and factual with the evidence.

In four years of policing together, Jared can recall a dozen or so times that he’s seen Jensen play this way, and he’s sure he’ll see it a dozen more in their careers, but it still creates unease in Jared’s mind. He glances over his shoulder to Jensen, near the door, arms crossed and face tight even while he’s staring right back at Jared.

Jensen winks and it would normally settle Jared, make him wink or smirk in return, but he can’t, because he’s too focused on the words coming from the taped confession. He barely gives Welling a second’s thought as the guy miraculously keeps watching the video while flashing over to Jared every few moments.

Jared turns back to the screen and watches Jensen slip closer to Bell as his voice gets quieter but continues to lead the boy on.

 _Were you following her? Did she know you were there and walking with her? Did she even know you from class? I bet you watched her from the back of that room every day. Even if you didn’t belong there. Is that it, Josh? Were you hurt that you didn’t belong in that class. That you didn’t belong in her life?_

 _What? No._

 _You weren’t enrolled in the class. You haven’t taken a class at DePaul in two years. Why were you there?_

 _No. I had the class. I was there._

 _You tried talking to her and what happened? Was she mean? Did she laugh at you? You can tell me, Josh. You can talk to me. I know what it’s like when a girl doesn’t give you the time of day. Did she ignore you?_

Jared’s frown smooths away and his breath is finally released on a sigh as Jensen’s words fall into something more soothing, more comforting. On screen, Bell physically relaxes, rolling his shoulders and lowering himself in the chair.

 _No. She didn’t. I liked her, yeah, but she didn’t laugh at me. She was nice. She was the nicest person I’ve ever known._

 _How did you know her, Josh? She’s an Alderman’s daughter and you sleep on your sister’s couch. How could you know each other?_

 _From class. And the paper._

 _But you weren’t in the class, Josh._

 _Yes, I was!_

Bell’s outburst and hands slapping the table shock everyone in Beaver’s office – except Jensen. In person, Jared sees Jensen’s shoulders push back and eyes light up with pride. On screen, he leans even closer and drops his voice further down, barely a rough whisper.

 _Why were you at the bridge with her?_

 _I just … I wanted to talk to her. To tell her what was going on._

 _Going on with what?_

 _Between us. We … were doing this thing. We were involved in something and she had to know it wasn’t over._

 _So you wanted to show her, right? Had to show her it wasn’t over? You weren’t backing down, were you, Josh?_

 _Right. Exactly, yeah._

Bell’s words get more power even while he still looks shocked to the core with the interrogation. Jensen’s, on the other hand, remain low and measured.

 _You couldn’t let her off the hook, right? You had to **show** her what she was a part of. _

_No one was supposed to get hurt. It wasn’t my fault! She just … Sam wouldn’t listen to me._

Bell sits forward, strength to his movements and breathing as he gestures with open hands and looks right into Jensen’s eyes as his own water, emotion slipping into his voice.

 _I just wanted her to listen to me._

 _And she didn’t, did she, Josh?_

 _No. She wouldn’t. And she didn’t understand. She **wouldn’t** understand that what we were doing was right, and her dad was wrong._

 _What about her dad?_

 _He didn’t want us hanging around anymore. Said there were too many questions. I didn’t care, I wanted to keep going. But she had to listen to her father._

Jensen reaches for Bell’s hands, covers them with one of his own, and tips his head in a caring movement.

 _Josh, it’s okay. Things happen._

 _Yeah, it just happened._

Bell starts crying, little stuttering breathes and hiccups distorting his pleas.

 _I didn’t want her to get hurt. I would never want that for her. But I couldn’t stop it._

Jensen rests a hand at Bell’s shoulder, squeezes along the muscle and exhales.

 _Alright, Josh. It’s okay._

  


Jared’s heading to the kitchen for a glass of water and Jensen strolls easily behind him, leaning against the doorway. He puts the glass down on the counter with one hand still tight around it, and when he looks up to Jensen, he rolls his eyes. “So, now you’re gonna gloat?”

Jensen tips his head against the oak molding and widens his smile. “I’m pretty sure I have the right to.”

He takes a deep breath, finishes off the rest of his water, and slips the glass into the sink beside so many other used dishes. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“That I got the case? No, not really,” Jensen says with the same broad smile.

“Kid wouldn’t talk but once you’re in there alone he can’t stop?”

“What can I say? I have a way with people.”

Jared watches Jensen then laughs. “You so do not.”

Jensen tugs at the knot in his tie, slipping a finger into it and pulling further down. “We really gonna dissect it?”

Jared plants a palm into the counter and continues watching, doing his best to ignore the flare in his belly when Jensen gets his tie free and opens the top buttons on his shirt.

“Case is over,” Jensen says, suggestion clear in his voice.

There are a few hard breaths, in and out, but Jared doesn’t move.

Jensen undoes his belt and pulls up on his shirt to let the tails hang over the waist of his pants. After a long moment, he scratches his stomach and turns to the bedroom. Jared can’t help but follow.

They’ve gone weeks, even months without this between them thanks to Jared’s crusade of keeping a clear mind while on a case. This time, they only had to wait a week, but Jared still feels it burn under his skin when they help each other undress, more for speed than anything else.

Along the sheets, they slide together, crushing bodies every time they flip each other over. Jared finally lets Jensen take the lead, and when he slips down Jared’s chest, sloppy kisses marking a trail due south, his eyes slip closed and he enjoys the warmth of Jensen swallowing him down and sucking quickly and obscenely.

He can’t hold out, refuses to even care about it, and his hands push on Jensen’s head as he fucks into his mouth, coming easily with a choked off moan.

Jared’s still easing down when Jensen flips him to his stomach and covers his back, dick hard and wet at the curve of his ass. Jensen slips along it, pushing into the skin but never quite there. Jared loves the sensation, and on any other day, he’d insist that Jensen do more. But he’s drained from a week of long hours and knows Jensen is, too. He knows Jensen’s just looking for the quick release so they can crash.

Rising to his elbows, Jared pushes his ass out, gives Jensen more to work with and then groans when Jensen’s dick slides across his hole. He gets louder when it presses against the ring of muscle.

Jensen’s hands are in the mattress on either side of Jared’s shoulders as he pushes hard against Jared, pushes himself right where it counts but doesn’t force himself in. If Jared were of the right mind, not exhausted and unable to connect himself to the moment, he’d start begging for more, but it’s enough to have Jensen on top of him and showing what he’d take any other day of the week.

Just a few more grinds of Jensen’s dick at his hole, a couple extra grunts, and Jensen’s coming across Jared’s skin. With harsh breathing, Jensen leans on Jared’s back, but stays mostly up on his hands and knees as he comes back down, forehead pressed between Jared’s shoulder blades. Soon enough, Jensen lowers himself and slips to the side before rolling onto his back and rubbing his chest.

Jensen sleepy and fucked out is an image Jared burns to his memory, and he can’t stop staring. Not even when Jensen snatches one of Jared’s ratty bath towels from beside the bed and does a shitty job of cleaning them both up. Jared can’t fault him for the lazy job, because he was ready to pass out without even bothering with the mess.

He’s happy enough with their work for the week, and he’s glad the case is over, not to mention satisfied with Jensen in his bed, that he doesn’t bother with words or moving. He closes his eyes and lets himself go.

Hours later, Jensen padding back into the bedroom wakes Jared, and Jared shifts to his side to see Jensen slip back under the covers. Jensen’s dressed in boxers and an undershirt, but he’s there. And then leans over and kisses at Jared’s jaw and then up to the juncture just below Jared’s ear. “Gonna sleep for a year then take _full_ advantage of you.”

Jared grins and falls back asleep.

Jared swats at the bedside table, trying in earnest to grab his cell and answer it. The tinny ring of a fake rotary phone keeps going until he can answer the call and grumble, “Yeah?”

“Nineteenth and the river. I’m on the way with coffee.”

Jared rolls to look at the rest of the bed, brain sleepily working out the fact that he’d fallen asleep with Jensen beside him and now the guy’s on the other end of the call. “Wait, what?” he asks, clenching his eyes tight. “Why there? It’s not even our district.”

“I don’t know. Lieu called it. He’s in a mood, so I’d say you shouldn’t even bother with a shower.”

He sits up and snatches the nearest pair of pants off the ground. As he pushes the phone between his ear and shoulder, he works one leg then the other to get dressed. “Where the hell are you? Last I knew you were right here.”

“ _Jared_ ,” Jensen stresses, “Just get there, alright?”

Jared picks up his alarm clock and squints at the blue digital numbers. “It’s gonna take me some time right now.”

“Use your lights.”

The line goes dead and Jared rolls his eyes at Jensen’s impatience. And further more at his absence from the room. He files it away as something to argue about when they’re face to face, and grabs a dark shirt from the closet floor that shows little in the ways of stains or wear.

  


“It’s a shame you don’t have yourself a free pass to get around town,” Beaver says with a tired glance when Jared gets on the scene.

Jensen passes him a coffee and Jared rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses because Jensen can’t look more awkward if he tried. Jared’s not exactly in the mood to play smooth partners considering he woke to an empty bed again, so he doesn’t trouble himself with addressing Jensen or what could be bugging him.

“It’s rush hour, what d’you want?” Jared shoots back with the attitude he’d built in the car what with being pissed at Jensen and for having to answer to a call just four hours after he fell asleep, having worked late on another case.

“I want my detectives to exercise their right to bypass traffic.”

“Next time I’ll commandeer a Ferrari. What’s going on?” he asks, assessing the park that butts up to Chinatown and boasts a pagoda-style pavilion. “This is far beyond our territory.”

“You ain’t kidding,” Beaver says as he steps along the pedestrian walkway that curls across the half-manicured field of grass and dirt that the Park District has been redeveloping.

Jared and Jensen fall in line, and when Jared notices that Jensen’s shoulders are stiff and his face is still tense, he frowns. “What’s going on?” he asks, pointedly focusing on Jensen.

Jensen looks over for a second but keeps walking and lets Beaver talk.

“Found the body an hour ago. It was called into the 21st District and Morgan came in but then he called for us.”

“Who?” Jared asks, glancing at Jensen, who remains silent.

“Jeff Morgan,” Beaver clarifies. “Head of Violent Crimes in the 21st.”

“And?”

That’s when Jared realizes another man is stepping up with an equally gruff disposition, frowning behind salt and pepper stubble as he extends a hand. “Jeff Morgan, in the flesh.”

It takes a moment for Jared to accept the hand, mentally re-living cases gone bad when districts didn’t play nice. He finally shakes Morgan’s hand and nods. “Jared Padalecki. What’re we looking at?”

Morgan motions to the side and walks closer to the boat takeoff, which is muddied beyond what Jared would assume is casual use. “We’re thinking there was a struggle here at the pier before she dropped in.”

As he steps forward, Jared’s prepared to ask for more information but then he sees the commotion just over Morgan’s shoulder. A crime scene unit is picking through dull blades of grass while Ferris kneels beside a naked body. Wet and _female_ with raven hair.

Jared stares at Jensen, who’s looking right back with dim eyes. He tips his head in question and the way Jensen blinks and forcess his eyes away tells Jared enough. Jared turns in one direction and then the next, wishing he could escape the moment, and runs a hand over his head as Beaver talks.

“This is Morgan’s house so before we get too deep into a shitstorm of officers waving guns at each other, I want you two to play nice. Share your toys and all that. If and when it becomes our problem, I’ll let you loose.”

Jared’s still watching Jensen, but Jensen won’t acknowledge him, keeping his attention on the Lieutenant’s instructions. When Jensen finally meets him with a quick and startled look, Jared can’t string the right words together to comment on the situation.

He walks off to find Ferris crouched over the body. “What’s it look like?” Jared asks her.

She picks her head up, twisting her mouth before going back to her work. “It looks like what it looked like a month ago.”

Jared tugs at his pants and crouches beside her, tipping his head and taking in everything he can compare to Samantha Price. He points near the neck. “No strangulation.”

After a long pause, Ferris shifts closer to the head and logs more notes on her pocket-sized pad of paper. “Think it’s a little early for that.”

“Why?”

“Body temp ain’t hardly dropped. Couldn’t’ve been in there but an hour before they pulled her out.”

He grunts in acknowledgment but won’t allow himself more.

Ferris murmurs to herself, but judging by the way her voice picks up, Jared guesses it’s for him, too. “Dirt under her nails, possibly some skin. Abrasions on her wrists and ankles.”

Jared huffs; her words only serve to give him flashbacks to Samantha Price in the Coroner’s Office, pale skin made translucent by her dark hair. Jane Doe looks eerily similar, and Jared can’t help but follow the same conclusions he can read on the faces of those on the scene.

“If this is what I think it is, he ain’t gonna be too happy,” she says barely looking at Jared then away.

He follows her sight to Jensen, who has his head low but is nodding to whatever Beaver’s telling him. “He’s not the only one.”

They both turn back to the body and Jared goes along with Ferris as she shares her observations and scribbles in her notepad. When a shadow looms over Jared and the body, he spins on the ball of his foot and looks up to Jensen, frowning at his tight frown.

“You good here?” Jensen asks quietly. “I’m gonna head out.”

Jared’s prepared to go with so he has the chance to not only ask Jensen about leaving in the middle of the night, but to get a read on how troubled he is at this development. But Jared remembers he’d driven in on his own while Jensen had already been here. His shoulders drop as he stands but he keeps his eyes on Ferris’ work.

“I’m fine,” Jared returns stiffly. He grimaces at the way his partner can’t take his eyes off Jane Doe. “They have anything to go on for an ID?”

“Not yet. Seems a little early.”

“We tagged Samantha Price pretty early.”

“Yeah, you did,” Jensen says with little emotion.

Jared stands and gets close to Jensen as he pitches his voice low because now he can’t help but ask. “So what’s the deal with you being on the road early?”

Jensen faces him but his eyes go anywhere but Jared’s. “Can’t be showing up to early morning crime scenes together.”

“Last I checked we’re partners. It’s par for the course.”

With a quick look up and down Jared’s body, eyes fixing pointedly at the rumpled shirt on display under Jared’s coat, Jensen clears his throat. “Not all of us are keen on rewearing clothes.”

Jared rolls his eyes because even while he knows Jensen’s going for a quick joke, an easy out, he’s not in the mood for it. “Whatever. I’m just tired of getting calls when you’re already gone.”

“You think I’m happy to be here?” Jensen shoots back, glaring at him.

Before Jared can properly respond, Beaver steps up to them and grunts. “The 21st’s team is gonna rake the area. You two should sit with them later today to see what they get. We’ll circle back to the house in a bit and consider what our options are.”

“I wanna hit Statesville,” Jensen says immediately.

Jared’s shocked at that, even when he knows what it means. Beaver gives Jensen a hopeless look.

“He’s the first person we should talk to,” Jensen quickly argues.

Beaver tuts and turns away for a moment before relenting. “Alright, but you guys be careful. You certainly gave that boy a mind-bend before, walking him right into that confession. If this is what we think it is, he might be our best witness.”

“I’ll go with,” Jared puts in before Jensen can argue with the Lieutenant.

“Jared, it’s fine. I got it.”

“I said,” Jared says sternly, “I’ll go.”

It’s a quiet standoff, a battle of wills, and Jared’s intent on winning.

Beaver sighs and nudges Jared closer to Jensen with a mumbled, “Get going,” as he steps around them.

Jensen knuckles at the corner of his eye. “What’re we doing with your car?”

“So, you’re driving,” Jared says in a flat tone.

“Of course I am,” he insists, but there’s less tension to him. “I’ll stop for your coffee. That good enough for you?”

Jensen gives him a wry smile and Jared rolls his eyes and turns away before he can let it really ease him. “You’re such a gentleman.”

  


When Josh Bell shuffles into the room, he’s a sad sight.

The kid’s beyond ragged, which makes Jared think perversely of the first time he saw him at DePaul; it’s quite a step up compared to now, with his orange jumpsuit and shaggy, unkempt hair. A blooming mark around his right eye and a few other scratches across his jaw and neck tell them that he’s been roughed up, and recently, too.

Jensen stands as Bell approaches the table and Jared shoots up to do the same, immediately wanting to put the boy at ease and make up for any mistreatement Bell’s experienced since that night in the Interrogation Room.

“Oh, you two,” Bell mumbles as he all but falls into the chair across from them.

“Hey, Josh,” Jensen says in a soft, comforting voice, sitting back down. “How’re you doing?”

“Really?” he asks, eyes dull but flicking between them both.

There’s an odd tick to Jensen, shoulder twitching up like he wants to shrug it off, but his hands tighten into a hard ball at the top of the table. Jared remains quiet, still unsure of what to do with the whole situation. On the ride out to the prison, Jensen had expertly sidestepped most conversation that was focused on him and instead tried to fill Jared in on anything from the new crime scene that he could’ve missed.

Jared decides that for all the anxiety he has over Jensen at the moment, they’re still partners, and it’s possible that they owe Bell a fair shake and a grand apology. On that, he leans forward and utilizes his easiest voice while giving a quick, soothing pass of a hand over Jensen’s, signaling that he’s got it.

“Josh, we have a few questions for you.”

“Right, of course,” he mumbles, leaning forward himself but staring down at his cuffed hands in his lap. “Something else to pin on me? Another body?”

They both freeze and it’s Jensen who stutters out, “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

Bell looks up and his eyes shoot wide open. “I … I was kidding. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even do _this_ ,” he whimpers while motioning his hands up.

Jared, again, pushes a hand over the table. “No, we’re not saying that. Why’d you mention another body?”

“I dunno. You guys have been assholes from day one. I can’t get a little defensive?”

As sarcastic as it could’ve been, Bell lacks emotion other than resignation, and Jared gives a comforting smile. “No, you’re right. We can be assholes sometimes. We’re cops.” Bell seems to struggle with agreeing and nods his head just a tiny bit. Jared’s smile breaks a little sadder. “You said you were into something with Samantha and you had to stop her from ending it. That you weren’t done.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“What was it?”

“Now you’re gonna listen?” Bell asks uncertainly.

“Yeah, we are,” Jared says while looking at Jensen.

Jensen finally clears his throat and asks, “What was it you were talking to her about?”

“Why do you care now?”

Jensen gives Jared a quick look and says, “We have another case and we’re just trying to clarify things.”

“There really is another body,” Bell says more than asks with a low voice.

Jared fights a sigh because this is not the way he saw the conversation going.

Bell sits back and eyes them, going so far as to have a criticizing look before he angrily shakes his head. “No, you know what? That dick Welling talked me right into a plea bargain and my shit-for-brains public defender walked me into signing. You want to actually hear what I have to say, I want something.”

“We can’t promise anything,” Jared points out.

“I ain’t talkin’ ‘til you do,” Bell says, slipping down further in his chair and pushing his shoulders back. “I don’t belong here. I want out. Right now”

“If this goes somewhere, you’ll be out of here,” Jensen says kindly. “I can guarantee you that.”

“I want out of here immediately. Low-security prison or some other hell hole that’s a little less hellish.”

Jared and Jensen regard each other for a few moments before Jensen looks troubled, like he can’t decide what to really do. Jared minutely shrugs and Jensen sits forward to speak. “We can talk to the ADA and get you moved to a lower security prison ‘til then.”

Bell regards them for a long time, obviously suspicious of the offer.

“We’re listening,” Jensen nods. “We wanna know what you know.”

“You for real? Because I’m really tired of getting the shit beat outta me.”

Jared wants to frown because Bell sounds defeated and sad. He sees Jensen grimace and nod as he moves to the edge of his chair. “Yeah, Josh, I’ll talk to the ADA and see that we get you transferred.”

Bell starts talking, quickly but softly, and Jared rubs between his eyes at the mess of Jensen making that kind of promise. Though he becomes more alert as the kid talks about him and Samantha running around like the Hardy Boys, doing their best to unearth information on long-forgotten crimes.

“And she was all about looking for things like Michael Scott and all that–”

“The School Board President?” Jensen asks carefully.

Bell nods and rambles more. “Yeah, him. The gunshot to the head and then being dumped at Merchandise Mart. She was convinced it wasn’t suicide, but then if it was, she wanted to know why he did it. She was ruthless about it. But the second we moved onto something else, she just stopped. Even when I found some good stuff on her sister and her dad’s blackmailers, she stopped huntin’ around and wanted no part.”

Jared’s mouth goes dry and he imagines Jensen’s does, too. Especially when Jensen croaks out, “Her sister?”

“Yeah. Sam kept telling me to stay clear of that. That her dad would flip on her if he knew we were looking around into the family.” Bell suddenly sounds excited, though his voice remains low. “But it was really good stuff I dug up. You know that her sister was out with her friends that night at the beach, some new friends and old ones from high school. And yet no one had a clue of where she went off to come midnight? They all saw her arguing with an ex but that was it.”

He can’t help but watch Jensen, and then he’s amazed with the control his partner draws up. His face pulls in and Jensen’s nodding like he’s really interested in the news. Jared’s pretty damn interested, too, but can’t wait to get out of this place so he can interrogate the hell out of Jensen.

“What happened at the bridge that night?” Jensen asks levelly.

“We’d been out talking to some people by the Mart. Like the building crews at Lower Wacker, even some homeless guys who stay down there. All seeing if they remembered anything from the night Scott died. We had a lead on some guy who’d been working nights on Jefferson in the West Loop, so we hoofed it over.”

“That’s a damn long walk,” Jared points out sharply.

He shrugs helplessly. “Sam liked the River. We would follow it a lot.”

“What happened at the bridge?” Jensen pushes on.

“We got into it along the way and stopped there. I asked more about her sister, and I said I had some leads on the guys pushing on her dad. She slapped me. Told me to stop asking questions, that it wasn’t my business. I pushed her away to stop the hitting and we kinda fought a little. I was just trying to keep her off me because she was getting so worked up. When I had the chance, I left and went off to the closest bar. I texted her where I was and told her I was sorry and she should meet me there. But she never did. I went back through an hour later and I saw her in the water. Your guy saw me running off from there, and … and that’s it.”

Jared shuts his eyes and looks away. The last bit of Bell’s story was one they’d heard before, from both Bell’s insistence and Welling’s replay of conversations he’d had with Bell’s lawyer. But at the time, evidence was strong with Bell’s DNA under Samantha Price’s fingernails and Abel’s identification of the kid fleeing the scene. The rest of his story presents a whole new trail to sniff out, and Bell’s so earnest at the moment that Jared breathes deep to steady himself against the impending guilt.

“What did you know about the stuff with the Alderman?”

Bell pauses, regarding them even longer than he had before. He chews on his lip and shuts his eyes for a long while. Finally, he says, “I didn’t get much.”

“What _did_ you get?” Jensen asks gently.

“He was going after cops.”

Jared looks right to Jensen, can’t take his eyes off of him, not even as Bell continues.

“A source said a few residents were shaken up in Price’s neighborhood by a few cops. And that some informants were being mistreated.”

They share a glance, Jared pursing his lips to avoid saying something to disrupt the flow between Jensen and Bell. Cops, in general, aren’t always the most honest creatures on the planet. And in Chicago, it gets a little tougher to label.

“You have any names on this?”

Bell shakes his head, dropping his eyes to the table and flexing his fingers out. “No. Samantha insisted we stop.”

“Who’s your source?”

“A lady on a parks committee. She was working with the Alderman to develop some land in his district.”

Jared glances over while his mind reels on the Ping Tom Park scene that morning.

“Gina Murray.”

Jensen’s chair scrapes as he pushes it out and rises, and it shocks Jared back into the moment. “Alright, Josh. I’ll talk to the ADA and we’ll be back as soon as we can. I can’t promise you hours or even days for it to happen, but it’s a priority.”

It takes a few seconds, but Jared gets up to follow Jensen out, though he stops at the door and shifts back. So much is swimming through his head that he can’t stop the question before it spills out: “Josh, what was the guy’s name from the beach?”

“Huh?”

He can hear Jensen shuffling and murmuring behind him, but he has to ask. “The sister’s ex?”

Bell looks away in thought and mumbles, “Jay or John? Something with a J.”

They’re eerily quiet on the way out, in collecting their property from the clerk’s desk, walking to the parking lot, and for most of the way back to the City. Jared busies himself with his phone, reading and sending messages, then he mumbles, “Welling’s gonna have your ass for that.”

Jensen doesn’t answer and when Jared looks over, Jensen’s hands are tight on the wheel.

After a bit of silence, Jensen’s voice is ten kinds of quiet. “It’s not him.”

Jared knows who he’s talking about but doesn’t say a word.

  


Morgan leads them into a conference room with photos pinned up that log the Ping Tom Park crime scene as well as a map with a tack marking the location and a handful of hand-written remarks on note cards circling it. He motions to the empty chairs at the end of the table nearest to the set-up and walks right up to the wall to recount what they have.

It’s not much, at least not enough to definitively say it’s the same thing as Samantha Price’s murder, but there’re little details that send chills down Jared’s spine and makes him wonder how it all ties together.

“Ferris says there’s some bruising becoming apparent and it looks familiar, but she’s not making statements just yet,” Morgan says as he regards a close-up of Jane Doe in the grass. “Can’t really blame her. I’m glad we’re taking this one slow.”

Jared quietly snorts and shifts in his chair while Jensen gets up and takes in the spread of evidence.

Morgan looks over Jensen’s shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Jared. “Something you wanna say, kid?”

He smarts at _kid_ and pushes his tongue against the back of his upper lip. “Not at all. Looks like you’ve got your bases covered right now.”

They stare at each other for a few moments until Morgan turns to Jensen. “What’d your kid at Statesville say?”

“Not a whole lot to run with just yet,” Jensen replies evenly, and Jared smirks, glad to know he’s not the only one unwilling to play nice here. “But we can look into a few things.”

“I’d like to look into a few things myself.” Morgan gives him a long look.

Jensen only nods and turns to Jared. “You good?”

“I am,” Jared says, standing and buttoning his jacket closed as he walks to the door with Jensen following behind him.

“Hey, boys,” Morgan calls out. “I believe your Lieutenant said we were to share and all.”

Jensen bristles and Jared’s hesitant to really respond. But he’s thankful when Jensen says, “We’ll invite you to the sandbox, don’t worry,” and nudges Jared out of the room.

  


Harris drops a handful of files on Jared’s desk and regards them each with a smile. “I hear good news is in order?”

They both look up, faces flat yet becoming expectant.

She looks back oddly. “You two okay?”

“Yeah,” Jared replies with a glance at Jensen. “Just been a long day. What’s your news?”

Tapping the top file, she smiles. “This came over from Benedict. Already got a name on your Jane Doe.”

Jared sits forward, followed by Jensen and they’re more than expectant; they’re needy for the information.

Harris knocks the top of the files and nearly grins. “You're welcome, boys.”

Jensen licks his lip and reaches for the top folder but Jared snatches it up first. He flips it open then stares down on the words, heart racing and brain spinning.

“Gina Murray,” Jared says as his eyes zero in on the name.

“What? Lemme see,” Jensen insists, leaning over both their desks to look.

Jared moves back in his seat and keeps reading, words garbled by the Blow Pop tucked in the corner of his mouth. “Thirty-four. Graduated Loyola magna cum laude in business. MBA from Northwestern. Worked for CDW as a business analyst. She’s part of the Executive Committee at Large for Friends of the Parks, a group that advocates on behalf of and with the Park District. Perfectly clean record. Recently moved into Left Bank.” He lets out a low whistle. “Way outta my pay grade.”

Looking right at Jensen, Jared swallows. “She registered at Room and Board two months ago.”

“Yeah?”

He nods at Jensen, heart still pumping hard but there’s a soothing notion that they’re doing this without too much trouble, and after visiting Morgan at the 21st, that they’re _in it_ together.

A large brown, paper bag appears on Jensen’s desk and Jensen looks at its grease spots then Jared as he shifts it over the break of their desks and onto Jared’s with glare.

“Don’t give me that look,” Jared groans. “Half of this is yours, too.”

“More like a quarter, you beast.”

“Twenty-three, sixty-three,” Officer Collins says as he leans against the side of Jared’s desk with a hand out.

Jared glances at the clock on his computer, telling him it’d taken Collins just 15 minutes to grab food and come back. “Gotta tell ya, Mish,” Jared smiles lightly as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “You have impeccable timing. If this police stunt don’t work out, you have a future in food delivery.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my wife. Now pay up.”

Jared hands over a twenty and a five but then stares at the piece of paper Collins is holding out for him in return.

Collins nods at it. “The information you requested on Sophia Price.”

Jensen’s chair creaks as he shifts to watch Jared with a sharp look.

“I take that back. You have awful timing,” Jared grumbles as he takes the sheet without another glance at the officer leaving. He slips it under the new stack of files at the edge of his desk and, remarkably, ignores it, Jensen, and the food, even while the smell of fries and other greasy flavors tempt him.

“You had to do it.”

Jared focuses on the folder open before him and breathes deep. “Yeah, I did.”

“Great, okay,” Jensen grunts.

His voice gets tough as he says, “I had to. And you know why? Because you’re like a fuckin’ vice today.” At Jensen’s eye roll, Jared adds, “Even more than normal.”

“Could’ve just asked me,” Jensen replies as he goes to his computer and purposely doesn’t look at Jared.

“Jensen, were you at the beach the night Sophia died?”

“No.”

“Okay then.”

Jared sees Jensen’s hand tense up on his mouse, fingers locking into a partially bent position, and his eyes don’t move from a spot on his monitor. “You gonna look at it or what?” Jensen asks sharply.

“You want me to?”

“You’re gonna do it the second I leave my desk. Just fucking look now,” he shoots back while smacking his mouse to the desk and glaring at Jared.

He fights doing it, only because he wants them to return to five minutes before Collins delivered the information. But he can’t back down from the challenge; he tugs the paper out and flips it open. “John Murray.”

“There,” Jensen says with a shitty smile.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry.” They can both hear how little he means it, but then Jared stares at the paper. “John Murray,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, not Jensen Ackles,” Jensen replies hotly as he moves back behind the computer screen.

“Murray.”

“Oh.”

Jared sucks on his bottom lip and keeps his eyes on the scribbled name. “Yeah.”

Slowly, Jensen points out, “It’s a common name.”

“Yeah,” he replies, quite unsure.

“Not necessarily related to the victim.”

“Yeah,” Jared repeats much the same way then shoves the slip of paper back under the stack of files.

“Are you seriously this cynical?”

His eyes snap to Jensen and he can feel his hackles rise with how angry Jensen looks.

“You’re just going to jump to conclusions?” Jensen complains as he flings his hand across his desk that fires a pen to the floor. “You think I’m tied into this but don’t even fucking _ask_ and now you’re gonna sit on this and assume the worst.”

“What’re you talking about?” Jared argues with wide eyes. “It’s my job to be cynical.”

“It’s your job to work a fucking case with your _partner_. You mind doing that instead of hiding all your little notions?”

“Oh, _I’m_ hiding,” he laughs harshly, but anything else is cut off when they spot Beaver entering the bullpen with two other suited men following him. “Who’s that?”

“Internal Affairs?” Jensen mumbles. When Jared looks at Jensen, Jensen grants him a quick glance then sighs.

“What’re they doin’ here?”

“How should _I_ know?” Jensen snaps, though it’s quiet and only grabs Jared’s attention even more.

Beaver steps up to their desks with a sharp look.

“You girls need a time-out or somethin’?”

“Damn right,” Jensen snaps as he stands. He yanks his jacket off the back of his chair and stalks out of the room.

“You gonna run after him?” Beaver asks, though he doesn’t sound interested in the slightest.

In fact, when Jared mumbles, “Maybe later,” his boss is already out of sight.

Jared spends the next half hour researching both John and Gina Murray, and it doesn’t take long to find out that they’d been married for six years, divorced for the past two. He dives deeper to find out if there was any bad blood between them, all the while unable to ignore the correlation between Josh Bell’s account of John Murray being around Sophia Price the night she died and this here.

It’s another hour of combing through records: employment, housing, credit cards, moving violations, and parking tickets. Nothing raises a red flag besides being the name Bell had dropped concerning the Alderman and her having married and divorced John Murray, but Jared keeps going.

“Next time you wanna fuck me, dinner would be nice.”

He rolls his eyes at the screen and does his best to ignore the ADA suddenly hovering over his desk.

“Maybe at least a drink. I may not be a high-class escort, but I’m not a cheap whore.”

Jared smacks his lips together then looks up to Welling’s heated face. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Welling shoves some files from the corner of Jared’s desk so he can lean down and plant two fists on it. “Couldn’t at least give me a head’s up that you’d be traipsing all over Statesville and offering deals? Instead I gotta come back to my boss and explain why I’d be transferring inmates without my knowledge.”

Leaning back in his chair, Jared crosses his arms and lightly rocks. “It wasn’t me, but I’ll pass along the message.”

“Oh, so your dick of partner over there,” he snarls, nodding to the empty desk across the way, “is just handing out pardons?”

“He didn’t just hand it out,” Jared defends instantly, because even when he and Jensen are fighting, he can’t help but stand up for the guy. Their partnership on the force has always been the most important thing between them, and there’s no way he’ll let someone drag Jensen down. “And maybe if you didn’t walk a kid down Death Row with a fucking bow tied around his neck, it wouldn’t be such a problem.”

“Maybe if you cavemen actually did your jobs.”

Jared shoots up from his desk and glares down on Welling, but then decides he can’t stand to look at him anymore. He grabs his suit jacket from his chair and waves a hand in the air with a mocking smile. "I’m gonna go do my job… somewhere _else_. Nice talk, Tommy.”

  


Jared texts Jensen a few times to find out where he is, and with the curt responses of _nowhere_ followed by _fuck off_ , he’s pretty sure to find Jensen at the corner of his neighborhood bar. And he does: Jensen’s got both elbows on the bar, hands cupped around a rocks glass, and eyes glued to the flat screen TV in the other corner.

“Welling sends his love,” Jared says as he slides onto the barstool next to Jensen. “And the next time you plan to bend him over his desk, he’d like flowers and a steak dinner first.”

Jensen finishes what’s left of his drink then drops the glass to the bar with a clank. “You sold me out.”

“Not quite,” he says lightly before ordering a draft beer. “But I didn’t take the fall so he’s on to you.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Jensen nudges his glass to the edge of the counter for a refill then takes a deep breath as he sits back on the stool. “So what d’you want?” he asks, crossing his arms and staring at Jared.

“Why do I always have to want something?” Jared takes a light sip of his beer then glances at Jensen. “Maybe I just miss your charming personality.”

He snorts but moves his eyes to the Bulls getting killed by Miami in high definition. “I hate O’Neal,” he mumbles.

Jared looks to the screen then shakes his head as he takes another drink. “Since when do you care about basketball?”

“Since it’s the only thing on.”

Jared leans back and mimics Jensen’s position with his arms crossed, though he looks over to him a few times. “John Murray’s her ex-husband.” Jensen only blinks at the TV. “I don’t wanna be an asshole-”

“But you’re gonna be,” Jensen cuts in.

He tries to not be annoyed with Jensen’s attitude, because he’s sure his partner’s got a few drinks in him already and they haven’t exactly been playing nice today. “But the last time I didn’t just ask, you got pissed at me.” He sees Jensen’s long inhale puff out his chest, and he continues, “Did you know him?”

His eyes flick around, nowhere far from the TV, but enough that Jared gets antsy with the answer, even when he can anticipate the low, “Yeah.”

“Jen,” he groans, struggling to keep more words inside.

Jensen’s shoulders rise as he tightens his arms at his chest. “He dated Sophia a few times while we were on a break.”

Jared shifts forward, hands curling around his pint glass as he sighs, takes a drink, and then stares at Jensen. “Next time, maybe you could tell me when you know people we’re dealing with?”

He doesn’t look at Jared, keeping silent for long enough that Jared’s convinced the conversation’s over. “I barely knew Gina,” he offers, eyes still glued to the blow-out winding down into the final minutes of the fourth quarter. “Saw her a few times, but didn’t know much about her.”

Groaning again, Jared pushes a hand through his hair. He cuts his elbows into the bar and hangs his head over his glass before drinking again, longer than before, and sighing as he puts his beer back down. “Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“You think that’s why IAD was at the station?”

Jensen just snorts and grabs his glass to take a long drink.

Jared twists to glance at Jensen and is put off when Jensen won’t tear his eyes from the game. He turns back to stare down on the bar, pushing fingers into his temples to settle his nerves. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “You know these people. I don’t like this at all.”

“You think I do?” When Jared looks over, Jensen’s eyes are solid on his. Then Jensen’s voice drops and his gaze softens. “I don’t know what the hell to do either.”

He shifts towards Jensen, resting a hand on the back of the stool with his thumb grazing Jensen’s back. “Fucking talk to me, man. I’m your partner.” Jensen doesn’t move or respond, so Jared adds, “More than that. I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own. I’m in it, too, you know?”

Jensen doesn’t say anything, but he does push back against Jared’s hand, which prompts Jared to swipe a few fingers across his shirt in comfort.

  


“Is Welling gonna follow through?” Jensen asks carefully from the corner of his sofa while Jared grabs a beer from the fridge, a reserve he’s surprised Jensen had seemed to start for him just recently.

It’s the first he’s talked about their situation since the bar, since Jared insisted they deal with it together then dropped it for the sake of trying to actually enjoy some time with his partner for once today. “I don’t know,” he replies just as carefully as he walks to the couch and drops into the other side.

Jensen scrubs a hand over his face, a bit drunk but not totally helpless; Jared knows him well enough to tell the difference. “If he screws this kid over any more …”

“You gonna break him out?” Jared asks with an awkward smile because he’s not exactly trying to joke, but he wouldn’t mind easing the mood.

“Jay,” he says with a flat tone and look.

Jared throws a hand out and argues, “Jensen, the DA’s office will do whatever can be done when it can be done. It’s not certain that the two girls are tied together, so they have to wait until we find something else.”

“It’s kinda obvious, ain’t it?”

He sighs and tips his head back against the couch cushion. “Just … we already fucked up one case. We’ll go slow and do everything by the books.”

With a tip of his head, Jensen glares at him. “Are you saying I didn’t?”

“No, I’m not-”

“That’s what it sounds like,” he huffs as he rises and walks to his balcony, tugging hard on the sliding door to open it. He’s outside and lighting up a cigarette in seconds, but still complains loud enough that Jared can hear him. “Didn’t do the last one by the books. Talked that kid into a confession. Rushed through it on account of the Alderman.”

Jared moves to the balcony, one hand tight around the door and the other at the frame. “ _Not_ what I’m sayin’.”

Jensen shakes his head and takes a long drag, exhaling it into a smoky haze around him. “Then what _are_ you saying?”

“That we’ll take our time and look at everything.” Jensen turns at that, and Jared hurries to say, “More than last time. We won’t be rushed into solving a high-profile case.”

“You don’t think this is now? A double homicide?”

Jared steps onto the balcony and settles next to Jensen, resting his arms on the railing. “Call it that when it is, alright? We gotta stop jumping to conclusions.”

Jensen keeps quiet as he moves to stump his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray then goes back to the railing, leaning over it like Jared. “We have to go see her place in the morning,” he finally says, more in dire need than fact.

“We will.”

Jensen sighs and it forces Jared to move closer, tipping his head onto Jensen’s shoulder, mouth closed but pressing into his shirt. “I hate this job,” Jensen grumbles.

“No, you don’t,” Jared says against him.

After a few moments, he amends, “I hate this case.” Longer yet, Jensen stays quiet. Then he smooths a hand over Jared’s hip, fingers squeezing lightly before trailing over the curve of his ass as he rests his lips at the top of Jared’s head. “Stay tonight?”

“Jen,” he argues, but it dies there. It’s not so much that he doesn’t want to, or that it hasn’t happened – even if it has been a while since they spent time at Jensen’s place. But he still has his rules to stand by.

Jensen pushes at his hip and backs off. “Right. Your tradition.”

“Last time we broke it and look where we are now.”

“Right, because that was the problem,” Jensen fires back, riled up all over again, and Jared sighs as he stands up. “We fucked around _after_ I got a false confession out of him. It’s not like it directly brought the kid down.”

“It’s not like that.” Jared’s prepared to go on to explain that it’s the nature of his mind, and a thing about good luck and keeping up what’s always worked for him, even before he was partnered with Jensen let alone sleeping with him.

“Fuck, you know,” Jensen sighs. “Sometimes I just wish it wasn’t all of this. That we weren’t even …”

Jared freezes then, sure of what Jensen’s trying to say, but still wanting to hear it. “That we weren’t what?”

Jensen rubs a hand over his head and looks out onto his neighborhood. “That we weren’t even partners. That it could just be this. Or, shit, if we were partners and it _wasn’t_ this.”

“We’ve been doing this for a year,” he manages to say without sounding too pathetic.

With a harsh chuckle, Jensen shakes his head. “What? Did I miss an anniversary?”

“No, and fuck you,” Jared says with only a little bit of heat. “Just, you could’ve said this before. Some time before it got complicated.”

“It wasn’t ever _not_ complicated.”

For a moment, Jared’s taken back to when they first were assigned to each other, and how easily they fell into step and friendship. But also of how hard it was to navigate with so much unsettled between them, taking a few years to finally come to something.

Jared’s only sense of comfort comes in what he’s already told Jensen, and he reaches out for him, only to have Jensen grab Jared’s hand to keep it from reaching his neck. Jared still says, “I’m not letting you deal with this alone. We’re partners and it’s _our_ case.”

Jensen pushes their hands out and away but doesn’t let go of Jared. “Stop with the fucking case. I’m trying to talk to you like a real person right now.”

He twists his wrist, and Jensen lets him move enough to hold his hand, fingers twining. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to just be here, but I don’t know what you want. You don’t exactly make this easy, either.”

They stare at each other for a bit and then Jensen lets Jared’s hand go and turns back against the railing and remains quiet.

Just as Jared sits down on a nearby chair, Jensen clears his throat and moves to the door. “I’m gonna crash,” he murmurs. “I’ll meet you at her place in the morning.”

Jared shoots back up and follows Jensen inside and through the apartment, carefully arguing, “That’s it? Conversation over?”

Jensen stops in front of his bedroom, loosening the knot of his tie with an angry smile. “I’m gonna drop into bed and fuck my hand. If you wanna help you’re more than welcome to stay.”

Waving a hand, Jared spins away. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles and leaves without another look back.

  


When Jared steps through the front door, Jensen’s already combing through a cabinet in the far corner of the living room, and Morgan’s directing his people to bag and tag every single slip of paper, no matter how insignificant.

“Glad you could join us,” Morgan says sarcastically.

“Next time I’ll bring a note from my mother,” Jared returns as he crosses the living room without a care for Morgan’s eye when he approaches Jensen. “What’s he doing here?” he quietly asks his partner.

“It’s the 21st’s until something good comes up,” Jensen replies, low and flat as he continues searching through credit card slips in the second drawer of the oak bureau.

Jared stands close to Jensen, keeping an on Morgan as he drops his voice. “I talked to some people at Friends of the Parks.”

Jensen instantly faces Jared, eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“They didn’t have much, but they said that Gina Murray was being pestered by a cop. Someone who had a line with the Alderman.”

Biting into his top lip, Jensen turns back to the bureau and starts again on the pile of envelopes in his hand.

“Did you hear me?” Jared asks.

“Yeah,” he grumbles.

“So you don’t care?”

“Can’t do anything right now.”

Jared shifts behind Jensen and looks over his shoulder. “You got anything there?”

“No.”

He flicks through a few envelopes on top of the dresser, ones that Jensen’d already gone through and had stacked neatly for the crime scene unit to take.

Jensen drops another bundle right on Jared’s hand then flashes him a sharp look before grabbing another handful of papers from the drawer. “I got those already,” he grumbles.

“What? I can’t take a look?”

“What? I can’t do my job?” Jensen asks as he crouches down to tug open the bottom drawer.

Jared sighs and fights putting his hands on his hips in anger. Instead he glances around the room and rolls his eyes at Morgan watching them. He sighs and turns to Jensen again. “Can you save me from talking to Serpico over there any more than I have to and tell me what you _haven’t_ gone through yet?”

Standing, Jensen pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looks through yet another handful of envelops.

“Jen,” he murmurs. “Are you kidding me?”

“Try the bedroom. I bet you can find a whole mess of shit in there that don’t mean anything.”

Narrowing his eyes, he huffs. There’s a tiny smirk on Jensen’s face, but it seems more bitter than playful, and Jared heads to the bedroom without bothering to keep the bickering-silent mix going.

A few hours pass through the search and Jared does his best to keep to himself even when conversations around him are of too much interest to wholly ignore. The crime scene unit finds short blond hairs in the bathroom sink. Morgan uncovers e-tickets for travel the day they found Gina Murray. Jensen connects a handful of bank statements with large deposits.

They’re all pieces to look into, but at the moment they don’t do much but make them impatient.

It’s a little while longer, after searching the entirety of the walk-in closet, when Jared reaches under the bed to snag an errant slip of paper, and his fingers catch on splintered wood. Cursing at the sharp dig that cuts through his latex gloves right to his skin, he moves to his knees and looks over the reddened scrape at his fingertips, blood dribbling to the surface. He pulls the glove off and sucks at the ends then ducks back down and sees the small lift of wood that he’d caught himself on. He reaches back under with his other hand, and the second the sheet of wood flooring wiggles, he’s smiling, heart beating fast.

He pulls the slat up and slides it over to get his fingertips down to feel … what, he’s not sure, but there’s something. Sitting back up, he shoulders the bed, rolling it a few feet, scraping wheels across the floor and drawing attention from the few officers near the bedroom.

In the center of the opening, there’s a small, amber-colored chest.

“What d’you got?” Morgan asks as he shuffles into the room.

“Something Gina didn’t want anyone to find.”

Morgan crouches next to him, watching as Jared favors his cut fingers and only uses his gloved hand to put the chest onto the bed and play with the lock. It’s enough to keep him out right now but cheap enough that he knows he can handle it. He wouldn’t always think to force something like this, but he’s reminded that it’s a victim’s belongings; they’d get into this anyway.

“Jensen,” he calls out, and the second his partner’s in the doorway, he makes a motion with his fingers that has Jensen reaching into an inside pocket then tossing a small pack across the room, landing atop the blankets. Jensen lingers for a second but then turns away and Jared watches the doorway for another second, at least accepting that Jensen handed over the packet without question.

Morgan, on the other hand, asks, “I even wanna know? You’re not screwing with my scene, are you?”

“You want it open, right?” he asks while opening the lock pick set.

Morgan’s standing over him with hands firm on his hips. “I want you to keep this apartment clean. Everything’ll be tied to me.”

“I can drop it off the balcony, but then you’d have two crime scenes on site.” Morgan takes a few steps away, grumbling distaste for not just what Jared’s about to do, but for Jared, himself. It makes Jared smirk, knowing that Morgan won’t stop him even while dressing him down for this. “Not a big deal,” Jared mumbles while working the pick around the hole. “This thing’s so cheap, they’ll believe it never locked in the first place.”

When it clicks open, Morgan steps impossibly closer, and Jared brings his eyes up while raising a hand in what little personal space he has left. “What?” Morgan snaps. “This is my investigation.”

“And this is my find,” he smarts back.

“You fuck this up-”

“I’ll lock it right back up if you don’t get off my ass.”

Morgan moves a few feet back with a tsk. “And here I thought we were startin’ to get along.”

“Yeah, keep thinkin’ that,” Jared says while eying how much distance Morgan finally gives up with another step away. He waits longer, until Morgan rolls his eyes, flipping a hand into the air with anger, and then leaves Jared to himself in the bedroom.

Jared spends some time going through the box. It’s mostly photos from Gina Murray’s younger days and a few mementos: movie ticket stubs, a seashell, and a pink, plastic ring that likely came from a gumball machine. Jared flips through the photos slowly, taking in each face and mentally logging if any show something’s off.

Then he finds it. It’s not anything he was particularly looking for but he knows it’s something to be alarmed by.

There’s a knock at the door, and Morgan’s there, looking and sounding annoyed and pushy. “You get those to my guys then let them finish their work. I’ll call when we have news.”

Jared hardly manages to swallow, only nods then goes back to the photos like there’s nothing wrong. As soon as Morgan’s gone, he pulls the one picture from the pack and takes another look at Jensen, young and smiling with Sophia Price at his side and Gina Murray tucked under the other arm.

He shoves it into his back pants pocket then sets the chest back in order for the unit on scene to log it.

The picture burns in his pocket but he hasn’t had a chance to mention it; having arrived at the scene separately, they left separately.

When they reach their desks, Jared can’t hold onto it anymore, and despite the way Jensen’s been more closed off than usual and has barely offered up his own conversation, Jared leans close and puts a hand to Jensen’s back with a soft, “Hey, we have to talk about something.”

“Not right now,” Jensen says as he flicks through a few papers at the top of his desk.

“Back at the scene,” he starts, but Jensen’s sharp glare shuts him up. He’s tempted to pull the picture out, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it in the bullpen, surrounded by other officers and detectives. When he looks down to Jensen still rifling through paperwork, Jared’s eyes catch one particular sheet. He grabs it and looks over Gina Murray’s Room and Board registry. “What the-”

“She wasn’t getting married.”

“Yeah, I see that,” he mumbles when the words _rocking chair_ and _bonnet_ jump out at him. “Ferris have any DNA on it?”

“No, I looked for myself.”

Jared is terrified at the idea of Jensen stepping into the morgue and doing any sort of investigation on a dead body that’s already half open.

Jensen rolls his eyes as he drops into his chair. “Christ, you’re dramatic.” He tosses photocopies of credit card bills at the edge of the desk for Jared to look at. “She’s been shopping around. Not too hard to figure it out.”

A combination of Master Card and Discover bills show purchases at Babies ‘R Us and Land of Nod, and suddenly Jared feels incredibly stupid for assuming Jensen either would have been professionally inept to not find this or that he could’ve found Gina Murray’s pregnancy in a less dignified manner.

“At the scene, I found a picture,” Jared mumbles with his eyes still raking over the credit card statements.

“What kind of picture,” Jensen asks without pause, continuing to dig through another stack of mail from the apartment.

“The kind with you and the victim.”

They stare at each other long enough that Jared has to swallow down his nerves, hoping he doesn’t say anything before Jensen can offer an explanation.

There’s a bustle behind Jared, loud voices in the hallway getting nearer and a few detectives gathering at the doorway. The fuss of people at the door go on for a few moments before they part and allow Alderman Price and his wife to enter. Her hand is wound tight into the back of the Alderman’s jacket and he’s staring right at Jared and Jensen, but no one says a word.

Jensen rises and stands close to Jared, enough that his shoulder brushes Jared’s back, and there’s an inkling of their camaraderie coming to the surface as Jared leans into to the touch.

“What in Sam’s hell is goin’ on?” Beaver’s door swings open with his complaint but he’s silenced from further complaints at the sight of the Prices. He bows his head in greeting. “Mrs. Price. Alderman.”

Jared’s fingers twitch; if they were anywhere else than the station, far away from coworkers, he’d reach for Jensen in a second, for both their comforts. He does glance over his shoulder to see Jensen’s chest rise and fall with deep breaths and his eyes suddenly look tired and guilty.

As the Lieutenant and Alderman start a quiet discussion with Beaver motioning into his office, Mrs. Price breaks away and stalks right up to Jared and Jensen.

“I thought you caught him,” she says with just the right amount of nastiness to put Jared on guard.

“Ma’am, if you will,” Jared starts, pointing beyond her to his boss and her husband stopped in the doorway across the room. “We can sit and talk about this.”

“I don’t want to sit-”

“We can all talk about it with Lieutenant Beaver,” Jared interrupts gently. “If you want to take a moment-”

“What I want is for you to find out who _killed my daughter_!” she shouts up to him, and the whole room goes silent.

“June,” Jensen says, voice thick before he clears his throat and steps around Jared to greet her. “June, please, let’s go into the Lieutenant’s office and we’ll-”

“I don’t _want_ to go into the Lieutenant’s office,” she yells, but her voice starts to drop as tears fill her eyes. “I just want to know who took my baby girl from me.”

Without hesitation, betraying the nerves that had locked him up just a minute ago, Jensen wraps his arms around her and lets her sob into his shoulder.

  


“We’re not certain it’s tied to your daughter,” Beaver’s saying as Jared leans against the wall and tucks his hands tighter into his pants’ pockets, trying to remain calm following the Price’s dramatic entrance. “It’s still mighty early and we’re now processing an entirely different crime scene.”

“But the news said the girl looked like-” Mrs. Price starts before Beaver puts a careful hand up to interrupt.

“There are similarities between this and your daughter. You’re right, there are. But we don’t know what exactly we’re dealing with just yet.”

“What _do_ you know?” the Alderman asks with a hard edge to the words.

Beaver flashes Jared and Jensen a look. While Jared figures he’s looking for help, for someone to support the possibility that nothing’s connected even when it seems that there’s something there, he can’t help but stare at the parents of the first victim in what Jared suspects is their unsolved double homicide.

“We know that we have two cases that look, on the surface, to be quite similar,” Beaver says firmly. “And in due time, with our crime scene report finished in the next few days, we’ll have more to say at that time.”

“Jensen,” Alderman Price practically barks, and Jensen jerks up from the wall to stand at attention.

Jared’s pretty sure if it weren’t incredibly tense or about the death of someone Jensen knew, he’d later laugh at the matter. Instead, he looks down and hears the Alderman ask Jensen what he knows.

Jensen clears his throat, tucks his hands behind his back, and as leans forward to speak. “There’s not much here yet. Like Lieutenant Beaver said, you have to give us time.”

“What about the guy who was following Samantha?”

Jared pushes off the wall at Mrs. Price’s question.

“John said Gina knew him, too,” she adds.

“What guy?” Beaver asks quickly yet calm enough to not warrant worry with the Prices.

Mrs. Price looks around the room to catch each man’s eyes. “Samantha said there was a guy near the train station who would walk with her for a few blocks, trying to talk to her.”

Jared shifts with a small sigh and tries not to glare at either Jensen or Beaver as he regards them. “This never came up before?”

“And John’d been saying that someone was pestering Gina. Surely John told you,” Alderman Price says, looking right at Jensen.

Jensen shakes his head. “No. Detective Morgan handled John’s questioning.”

“But just last week, you saw him-”

“I haven’t seen him in years,” Jensen cuts in.

“John said he saw you at the District Fundraiser,” the Alderman pushes with a nod.

With another shake of his head and bringing his shoulders up high, Jensen insists, “No, I didn’t see him.”

“But you were there, weren’t you?” Mrs. Price asks.

The conversation carries on as Jared’s attention kicks between the members of the group, with Jensen insisting he hadn’t seen John Murray since they were in college and the Prices continuing to question it. He knows he should focus on it, but it’s impossible at the uncomfortable way Jensen won’t meet anyone’s eyes, or how his voice is becoming more restless and impatient as it goes on further.

“Alderman,” Beaver cuts in loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Mrs. Price. Do you know who was following Samantha?”

Mrs. Price shakes her head. “She never said a name.”

Jared clears his throat and steps forward. “Alderman, what about your situation?”

“What about it?” he asks tightly.

“With you possibly bringing down cops with bad reps and informant issues?”

“This couldn’t have anything to do with Samantha,” Mrs. Price immediately says.

Jared takes his time with the silence covering the room. He glances at Jensen then gives as straight a look to the Alderman as he can. “It could.”

“How on earth?” the Alderman asks, voice rising with irritation.

“Sir, the woman we found this morning was Gina Murray.” The Alderman’s eyes drop immediately and Mrs. Price looks confused. “You worked with her on Friends of the Parks, correct?”

“Yes, yes, I did.”

“We talked to a witness who’d talked to her and she knew about the cops you were gunning down.”

Price shakes his head then looks up to Jared, suddenly tired. “I wasn’t _gunning_ people down. But there were a lot of problems concerning my residents and mistreatment or complete ignorance of neighborhood issues. Then we were having trouble with patrols near the new park site. That’s how Gina knew.”

“Do you have any names?”

“Of the cops?” he asks with a short chuckle.

Jensen grabs at Jared’s elbow, tugging enough to disrupt the conversation. “We don’t need the names. It’s fine.”

Jared yanks his arm away. “What do you mean, it’s fine?”

Beaver clears his throat. “Detectives, if you don’t mind.”

Watching Jensen, Jared does his best to not put the others in the room on edge but he can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head, why he’s not exactly pushing the bit of evidence they got from Bell just a day ago.

“I’ll finish this with the Prices. Can you give us the room, please?”

  


Jared pushes Jensen into the changing area then all-but kicks the door shut, shoving a folding chair under the handle to keep anyone from entering without some major force.

Jensen spins back to him, annoyed but not looking at him.

With his hands out, Jared gives a harsh smirk and a bitter tone. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

“With what?”

He points behind him to the door. “The Prices. Or the Murrays? Or our two murders that you seem to be inexplicably linked to but can’t bother to talk about? I’ll even accept you explaining why you’re being such a dick today.”

Jensen groans, pushing past Jared with an “Oh, come on,” but Jared pushes him again, slamming him into the lockers lining the nearest wall.

When Jensen doesn’t bother to fight back, Jared breathes hard and waits for him to speak.

Finally, Jensen says, “I didn’t see Murray at the thing.”

“Funny, because they seem to think so.”

“Goddamnit, Jared,” he huffs and shoves a locker door closed with a loud clank.

“Were you there?” Jensen doesn’t answer and Jared’s voice rises. “Were you _there_?”

“Yes! I was there, but I didn’t see him.” Jensen huffs a few times then settles with a hand out to ease the situation. “I didn’t see him, okay? I swear. I didn’t know he was there.”

Jared glares at him. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

After a few moments of just staring at each other, Jared pulls out the photograph of Jensen with their two victims and holds it up. “What’s this?”

“I don’t,” Jensen argues before stopping and actually looking at the picture. “Where did you get that?”

Jared lets Jensen take the photo then runs a hand through his hair while the other lands on his hip and he turns away. “It was in the locked box.”

“I don’t … I don’t know,” Jensen mumbles. “I don’t know what to say.”

Closing his eyes, Jared says, “You knew both the girls, knew their families years ago.”

“Yeah, and?”

“They were being followed by someone they knew.”

“What’re you saying?” Jensen demands, glaring at Jared.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But it’s getting pretty suspicious.”

Jensen shoves Jared away and marches to the door. Jared grabs his shoulder but Jensen shrugs out of it. “Back off, alright! I don’t wanna deal with you.”

“Jensen, just a-”

“No!” he shouts, pointing a finger in Jared’s face. “You were all about trying to stick with it last night and now you’re shoving _evidence_ in my face.”

“What’m I supposed to do?”

A split second later, Jensen’s fist connects with Jared’s face, knuckles tight against his cheekbone. Jared flinches away, bending over and holding his face, watching the picture flutter to the ground at his feet.

“You could stop being such a dick.”

When Jared rights himself and leans against the lockers, he rubs a thumb over the reddened, pursed skin and thinks over the times they’ve fought. They’ve never landed hits and it’s never been this tense.

The look they share doesn’t last long, nor does it make Jared feel anything but guilt and anger over the whole thing, because Jensen’s eyes are fierce and daring him to say or do anything.

Jared doesn’t move, not even when Jensen jerks the chair from under the door handle and it clatters to the ground as he yanks the door open and leaves. He stays against the lockers but keeps his eyes on the photo facing up. Jensen’s carefree there with a wide smile that opens his face up and shows off shiny, youthful eyes. Through the few years of their partnership and the last year of them together, he’s seen Jensen as a lot of things. This capture of pure joy is foreign to him.

With that thought consuming his brain, he doesn’t immediately react to the door opening or Officer Collins entering the Locker Room. “Hey, Padalecki? You okay?” he asks, eyes locked in on the red bloom already forming high on Jared’s cheek.

He looks down and away and mumbles, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Collins bends down to grab the photo with a casual, “This yours?” But his hand stalls in the air as he looks at it, curious then suddenly apprehensive. “What’s this?”

“Just a picture,” Jared replies, as nonchalantly as possible, but it appears Collins doesn’t buy it because he won’t return the picture.

“This from your case?”

“What?” he tries to dismiss with a careful shrug, but even he can hear the nerves in his voice.

“Isn’t this the girl from the park?”

Right then, Jared knows that the picture belongs anywhere but with him. Really, he knew it the second he saw it but had been trying to figure it out on the side.

  


For all of Sunday and Monday, they split up. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal; they’ve split up for efficiency before, but never like this. Without a word spoken or a plan made to meet up later and discuss.

They each take to interviewing family members and coworkers that Morgan doesn’t have the manpower or time for. It’s mostly a bust because, of course, the senior detective is handling people who better knew Gina Murray while Jared talks to the Left Bank doorman who can only say, “Pretty, tall brunette? Yeah, she just moved in last month. Great legs.”

Jared sends Jensen a few texts throughout the day, trying to gauge his mood and success with his own work but nothing is returned until after Jared is already done for the day and collapsing into bed.

 _Nothing_ is Jensen’s texted response.

 _at all??_ Jared replies.

 _That’s what I said_

Jared pauses, sighs, and runs a hand over his face. He’s close to hitting send to have this conversation with an actual voice and inflections. Instead, he texts, _we should talk_

 _About what?_

 _us, the case, etc_

The response doesn’t come quickly, but it’s enough to send Jared’s heart racing. _When the case is over_

Jared’s fingers fumble out an answer and he takes even longer to correct it than he does to think about it. _could be months_

 _Yeah_

There are so many bitchy remarks spinning in his brain, along with even more upset, offended, sad thoughts to Jensen putting them on hold right now and effectively ending what they have.

Not that it’s a solid relationship, or anything they can boast about – being police officers and partners discounts that possibility. But Jared can’t imagine working with Jensen, facing him most of his waking hours, without thinking more of it.

Before he can manage to come up with a response that isn’t angry, pathetic, or dismissive, he falls asleep.

  


Jared can’t figure out what he feels when he sees Jensen’s car in the station parking lot that morning. Thankful comes to mind, happy that Jensen’s still coming in and willing to sit in the same room. Maybe they can take a moment to discuss this logically and maturely, figure out what’s going on and how to deal with it.

Except there’s definitely a bit of anger and bitterness in his system at the sight of Jensen’s desk turned away from his. He wants to laugh at the pettiness of it, but in a way, he’s glad that he knows where they stand for the moment.

He drops into his seat, hand automatically reaching for the white, covered coffee cup at the edge of his desk. It’s Jensen’s thing, always brings coffee in the mornings, and it seems off base right here, but Jared grabs it anyway. Then he shakes it when he realizes there’s less than a third in there and likely was left behind by someone else. He pitches it into the garbage can then leans back in his seat and signs into the Police Department’s system.

The first few messages in his work email are alerts ones he’d caught on his phone but barely paid attention to. Now, there’s Benedict rambling on about evidence from the case, followed by a rather nasty toned message from Morgan about tampering with items in an investigation and _fucking over **my** scene_.

As if Jared hadn’t felt like it was enough betrayal to turn in the photo, he’s now facing the fact that he has to explain why his, Jensen’s, _and_ Collins’ fingerprints are there.

His desk phone rings and he rolls his eyes before picking it up and tucking it into his shoulder as he begins typing a response to Benedict. “Homicide. This is Padalecki.”

“At the risk of you spoiling yet _another_ part of my case and you fucking me-”

Jared rolls his eyes yet again at the pissy tone from Detective Morgan on the line. “Hate to tell you, but you’re not really my type.”

Morgan continues on, “Completely sideways, maybe you two asses could help me cruise Union.”

“I’ve never needed a wingman, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

Just as Morgan rants in return for Jared’s smart mouth, Jensen turns in his seat. At first Jensen’s eyes go wide and he subconsciously rubs at his brow; Jared figures he’s staring at the nice beet-red blotch that’s formed under Jared’s eye, a mark that also holds a nicely centered purple patch.

But then Jensen’s eyes scroll over Jared’s whole face before he looks to the side. There isn’t much, but there’s enough in the profile to see that Jensen’s listening in and ready to be part of the conversation. Jared’s heart speeds up at the thought of them talking, or at Jensen fighting with him more. He’s not sure which he really expects to happen. Except, Jensen stays silent through Jared’s conversation with Morgan.

“What’re you looking for at Union anyway?” Jared asks with a flat tone.

“Gina Murray’s stalker.”

Jared sits up, chair squeaking with the quick movement, and Jensen turns a bit more at the sound. “How’d you know about that?”

“How’d _you_?”

“The Prices said someone was following her and Samantha.”

“When’d you hear this? Christ,” Morgan sighs angrily. “You keeping this info in your pocket with a bunch of photos?”

Jared licks his bottom lip then bites it to stop any smart remarks.

“Better late than never, I suppose. Christ, you kids are messes with cases. Maybe you need yourselves a mentor,” he suggests, more than smug.

Jared looks to Jensen with a raised eyebrow and mouths _Morgan_. Jensen shakes his head in sympathy then shifts more to watch, though he still seems awkward to be bothering with Jared.

“Don’t know how you do things over there, but in the 21st, we actually log evidence and welcome a group effort to rule out suspects.”

“Suspects?” Jared asks icily, unnerved that Morgan’s beat them to the punch.

“Yeah, like ones who show up in pictures with our victims?”

He shifts in his seat, putting an elbow on the desk and looking down at his fingers flipping through the edges of papers stacked to his left. “What’re you thinking?” he asks as level as possible.

“I’m thinking that I’ll share when I’m ready.”

“If you’re going down that road, why bother with Union?”

Morgan chuckles and Jared hates imagining how much longer they’ll have to deal with him. “Because unlike you kids, I like to rule out all options.”

Jared snorts into the phone, unable to come up with a good comeback, and more annoyed at that fact than Morgan’s words.

“So you comin’?”

He pushes a hand over his face, wincing with the pressure at his budding bruise then looks right at Jensen, who doesn’t appear to care about either the bruise or the phone call anymore as he’s turned right back around. “Morgan’s going to Union,” Jared calls to him. Jensen tilts his head and stretches his neck in return. “You good to go?” Jensen drops his head to focus on something at his desk and Jared calls out, “Hey, you wanna go?” After a few moments, he complains, “ _Jen_ -”

“Yeah, fine,” Jensen replies moodily without moving.

“We’ll see you fifteen,” Jared says into the phone.

“And you can bring some coffee while you’re at it,” Morgan suggests. “Two creams and a sugar.”

Jared can hear the smile there, and replies, “You can eat me,” before hanging up.

  


Morgan is grinning underneath his graying beard when Jensen hands over a large coffee. “I see you’re not so incapable of following instructions.”

“Hope you’re happy with yourself,” Jared grumbles at Jensen as he surveys the outdoor pavilion of Union Station, running along the river between Adams and Jackson streets. It’s not as crowded as early mornings or the evening rush, but still has some pedestrians milling around. “He’ll expect you to do it every time.”

“What happened to you?” Morgan asks sharply, eyes right on Jared’s cheek.

“Fell down the stairs.”

With a glare, he replies, “That ain’t funny to a Violent Crimes Detective.”

“What’re you working with?” Jensen asks, cutting Jared off from any sort of comeback.

“To be honest, not a whole lot,” Morgan says with a grimace. He surveys the crowd as he walks north, crossing Adams and walking in front of the CDW building with Jared and Jensen following. Morgan looks up at the mid-rise office building and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Some people in Gina’s office said she’d complained about someone hanging around out here and giving her trouble. Figured we’d see if there’s anyone here.”

“Yeah, but,” Jared starts with an awkward laugh. “If it’s our guy, he wouldn’t exactly have a reason to hang around here anymore.”

Jensen flashes him a look then one at Morgan, and it’s flat like all the other ones have been so far this morning, but it’s not angry. Jared has to wonder if Jensen’s planning to finish this investigation without sharing another word.

“It’s just a thought, alright?” Morgan complains then motions between them. “Maybe you do shit differently, but I look at possibilities.”

Jared doesn’t have any reply that wouldn’t involve drawing attention from the thin crowd passing them so he just tilts his head in offense. It’s Jensen who steps up and pats at Jared’s shoulder as he moves closer to Morgan. “You got a description or something we can look for?”

“Yeah,” Morgan says, shifting focus to Jensen. “Six foot or so, medium build, blonde hair.”

Jensen’s nodding then looking across the plaza but Jared catches how Morgan’s staring at Jensen, _assessing_ even. And now Jared’s assessing Morgan and that long gaze on his partner.

“Split up?” Jensen suggests. “I’ll go this way and we round back up in a lap or two?”

The way Morgan grins forces a chill down Jared’s back. “That sounds great. Real team player.”

Jared moves to Morgan and first takes his time to think over his words but then he has to follow Morgan’s eyes that watch Jensen walk away. “What’s your deal?” Jared asks, barely containing his attitude.

“Keeping all my options open.”

“You think he has something to do with it?”

“That really a question?” Morgan smirked, barely looking at him. “I’m curious, he got an alibi for the mornings of the murders?”

Jared’s eyes narrow, instantly recalling that Jensen had been gone in the morning both times.

“And what’s his story for how he knows both the victims?”

“He grew up with them,” Jared says tightly, crossing his arms and widening his stance. Even when he has to question Jensen’s involvement, he’s not about to let someone else step in and make Jensen a suspect without due process.

“Yeah, funny that.”

“What?” Jared asks, eyes tight on Morgan to catch every expression.

“The families are all Gold Coast, corporate and public service types. The Ackles aren’t exactly much more than help, right?”

He does his best to not overreact. He knows Jensen didn’t grow up with money, and he’s generally spoken of his mother working for the Prices, leading to him knowing the family. But it wasn’t ever a big conversation considering everything else they’ve had to do deal with.

“Yeah, that’s how he knows the Alderman,” Jared says lightly, trying to deflect Morgan’s intentions to rile him up.

“Right. And Sophia, too.”

“Yeah, and your point?” Jared asks, intent on glaring at Morgan.

Morgan leans to his right, keeping his eye on Jensen then mumbles, “The Murrays are top dogs at CDW.”

On a reflex, Jared looks up at the building. “And?”

“They run the whole business from up top.” Morgan finally looks at Jared and nods up the building. “Why do you think Gina kept the last name even when they’ve been divorced for a few years?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Why?”

“Maybe she wanted to stick with the money and all that the name gives? And maybe she’d offer a childhood friend, one who’s in law enforcement, to help with that? But then he gets greedy?”

Jared’s mind spins, remembering all the deposits, and tries to lock all these pieces of information together, keep them there to later think over. After a few moments, he sees Jensen coming back into view and it reminds him of all the other things he has to sort out: Jensen’s involvement, that picture, Morgan’s suspicion. Hell, his own suspicions have been getting him into trouble.

As if making up for that and, again, protecting Jensen, Jared puts on a smart look and tone when he regards Morgan. “That sounds like a real interesting lead. Why don’t we follow the money and stop worrying about how my partner grew up like a pool boy?”

“Aren’t you interested to know how he’s so involved?”

Jared flinches with the thought that yeah, he so does, but he doesn’t want Morgan to be part of that digging. Even with their relationship currently failing, Jared can’t help but continue to defend and protect Jensen.

Morgan is waiting on Jared’s answer but he doesn’t have one for him. Just then, Jensen’s close enough to nod in their direction and Jared can’t take his eyes off Jensen: he looks tired, stressed, tight, closed off. But he also looks like he’s _trying_ to not look it at all, with the way his eyes keep running between Morgan and Jared.

“Aren’t you?” Morgan repeats, and Jared has to come up with something before his silence says more than he can.

Jensen looks right at Jared and something in his eyes tells Jared he knows there’s nothing good in this conversation. Jensen opens his mouth to talk when someone bumps into him. It isn’t a terribly rough hit, but he’s distracted long enough that Jared can take an easy breath and step away from Morgan, refusing to answer the question.

“You see anyone?” Jared asks, even while both he and Jensen stare at the guy walking away.

Then something flickers in him, because the guy was just over six foot, blond hair, medium build.

Jensen’s still turned towards the blond walking away but he readjusts his jacket and tie from the bump. “Lotta guys fitting that description around here.”

Jared just stares at Jensen, thinking, _yeah, you_ but then reels at the fact that Jensen is _speaking_ to him.

“He actually think we’ll just _find_ the guy standing around, waiting to be interrogated?” Jensen asks quietly, still sounding annoyed and tired.

“Yeah, I think so,” Jared returns oddly, unsure how to deal with Morgan trying so hard to plant seeds, and also how much Jensen is saying compared to the last twenty-four hours.

Jensen looks up to Jared, eyes steady for a few moments, but not saying more until he looks over to Morgan and nods with a tight smile. “When you get something more concrete, give us a call.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rise and he grins. “I surely will.” As Jensen steps away, he keeps looking for Jared to follow but Jared takes a few seconds to just stare at Morgan, who’s grinning right back. Then he shoots out, “Padalecki? Be more careful on the steps.”

  


Despite Jensen’s moments at Union, there’s no talking for the rest of the day. As they rake over more paperwork and electronic files, they’re mostly silent, though Jared does attempt to raise questions based on things Morgan had mentioned.

When he asks about Gina Murray’s ex-husband and intention on keeping her last name, Jensen shrugs and grumbles affirmatives or confusion, still intent on his own research. Once in a while, Jared mentions items he’s uncovered – such as Gina’s mass deposits in her savings account matching withdrawals from John’s – but Jensen simply nods without looking at him.

“We should talk to John,” Jared says low, distracted with how nearly a dozen transactions match to the penny. He hears Jensen’s loud inhale and looks over. “What?”

Jensen remains quiet but he twists at the waist and his eyes hit Jared’s shoulder, resolutely avoiding his face.

He’s close to joking _Lassie, did Timmy fall down the well again?_ , but he knows Jensen’s irritation would just ramp right up. Instead, he imagines having the actual conversation, pre-fight, pre-case, and in the end he says, “Yeah, Morgan already talked to him. But you think he knows or asked about the bank accounts?”

There’s a quick flick of Jensen’s eyes _near_ his face and he knows Jensen’s fighting himself to speak and actually have this conversation.

Right when his mouth opens, Officer Harris strolls up, handing over an evidence box and a few files. She smiles sweetly and nods to Jensen, who spins his chair in the space between their desks to look at her and the box she sets on Jared’s desk. “Morgan from the 21st sent this over,” she says, “Navens asked me to bring it on up.” When she gets a good look at Jared, she sucks in a breath. “What happened to you?”

“Walked into a door.” Then he moves on with an easy smile. “Julie’s down in the booth? Where’s Lon? Ain’t seen that girl in ages.”

“Still on the graveyard shift,” Harris replies with a twist of her mouth and her eyes won’t leave the mark on his face. “I can send her your regards.”

Jared takes a second to look at Jensen, who’s watching him but then Jensen turns to Harris when Jared catches him. “Nah, just curious.”

“She’ll be out tonight. You can bother her all you want then.” With Jared’s odd look, she continues, “Misha’s anniversary. Fifteen years on the force.”

He smiles to cover up his forgetting the night out he had long-ago promised to be a part of. It’s been a little while since they all socialized. “Yeah, okay. Tonight it is.”

Harris taps the edge of Jared’s desk then looks at Jensen with his desk still turned away at a 90-degree angle. “What’s up here?”

“Just a little tai chi,” Jared smirks.

“It’s feng shui,” Jensen replies flatly with barely a glance at Jared.

Harris smiles at them both. “You guys’re coming tonight, right? Misha doesn’t take kindly to cancellations. I think he’s already planning to work a little Nair and Lysol into the bathrooms.”

“That don’t sound half bad,” Jared chuckles.

“To the men’s rooms.” Jared gives an odd look and Harris adds, “It’s Misha. It’s always bad and never what you expect.”

“He once traded my toothpaste for foot cream,” Jensen grumbles, shifting back to his desk.

She smiles at him then rubs a hand over his shoulder. “And he loves you for not reporting him for the snake in the car, too.” Jensen chuckles and rubs over his brow. She squeezes his shoulder, and Jared can’t not watch, not quite liking the exchange for a second even when he knows they’re just friendly. “But tonight, yeah?” she asks with a look to them both.

Jensen glances over his shoulder but it’s more a gesture than an actual look for Jared. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Hours later, when Jared’s wrapping things up and decides to head home for a shower and change, he pauses in pulling his suit jacket on, watching the curve of Jensen’s back as he’s still arched over his desk and combing through more of Gina Murray’s electronic past.

He’s sure to be disappointed in the response, but he still asks, “You wanna head over there together? Grab some dinner first?”

There’s a long moment before Jensen shakes his head and continues scrolling down the screen.

Jared sucks in his lower lip, biting then flicking it out with a pop. “’Kay. I’ll see ya there.”

Jensen’s hand comes up but it doesn’t wave; it holds his head up with the elbow on his desk.

  


Jared spends the first hour at the bar watching Jensen talk, joke, and laugh. Basically, doing all the things he hasn’t done with Jared in two days, things he’s adamantly not doing.

In between his glances to Jensen at the long line of tables, surrounded by Harris, Collins, Hodges, Kane, and a few others, Jared does his best to keep up other conversations. He catches up with Tal, who’s spent the last month working nights and takes the time to complain about the lack of excitement from Crawford and Nichols, other beat cops who assist in major investigations. And he makes time for sociology with Collins’ wife, playfully arguing with her over expert theories and a few she’s concocted on her own.

But, he’s mostly watching Jensen light up with everyone around him. A few times, Jensen looks his way, keeps a bit of sparkle in his eyes, but his mouth usually falls into a line before he goes back to his conversation. It kills Jared to see it, especially given how easy they’ve always been, and how Jensen won’t give him a second to even discuss what’s going on with them and the case.

Jared doesn’t deny Vicki the honor of doing a shot together. Nor does he ignore Tal’s not-so-subtle push of her empty bottle towards him and he buys the next round. He’s not drunk, but he has enough to feel loose and consider talking to Jensen, to push the point. It’s obvious that Jensen, too, is drinking, relaxing from all they’ve been shouldering this week.

“You boys have a lover’s spat?” Tal smirks up at him.

“Fifth person to ask me that,” Jared returns with a tip of his beer. “You’re not as original as you think.”

“And what’d you tell the other four?”

“That we didn’t. And we’re fine.”

She hums and looks around him to find Jensen looking more than fine; he’s fully engaged in a laughter-filled conversation with Harris burying her head at his shoulder as she breaks out in hysterics.

“See?” Jared says with a fake smile. “He’s perfectly okay.”

She takes a moment to consider him then says, “Yeah, but you look like shit.”

“What? These are totally clean clothes.” She chuckles and he adds on, “And I even showered before I came. C’mon, Lon, I look pretty damned good.”

“Okay, this,” she laughs, gesturing from his neck down to his waist. “This is fine, more than fine. You know that because you’ve got that big gorilla head and you know people think you’re pretty to look at. But that?” she says, motioning at his face. “Not so great.”

He chuckles with her because it’s apparent their last round is contributing to her drunken rambling. But he stalls when she asks, “Is it because Jensen’s all wrapped up in something?”

“Wrapped up in what?” he says, trying like hell to keep his tone level.

“I dunno, but he comes down a lot to check out records. Or not check out. Sometimes he just sits there on the floor while going through evidence cases.”

Jared can’t come up with an answer to that, other than _tough case_ , but he’d tried that with Beaver earlier that morning and the Lieutenant had just replied _had a lotta tough cases before_.

“World just seems off-kilter when you two ain’t BFF all over the place, ya know?”

He cracks a smile, forced along with a head nod, and he can’t care when she turns to Hodge to discuss another round.

His mind won’t stop spinning at everything with their case. That Jensen knows everyone, he’s got a finger in all the evidence whenever Jared’s not around him, he’s pushing Jared away, and there’s the pesky part of Jared’s brain that’s trying to ignore the fact that the mornings of these two murders, Jared’s woken up to an empty bed that Jensen does little to explain.

Jared’s convinced they need to talk, and tonight. It’s stupid to force it, but he doesn’t want it to go any longer, and he hopes Jensen will be more open to a conversation after the handful of drinks he’s had. Though Jared considers all the possible reactions Jensen could have to Jared even saying his name in opening, and wastes nearly an hour just studying his partner.

Suddenly, the table stills when Jensen freezes, eyes locked just beyond Jared, and he mouths a distinct, “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

Jared turns and sees Morgan ordering a drink just five feet away, and when the detective faces him, a grin is firmly in place.

“What’re you doing?” Jared asks.

Morgan raises his pint. “It’s a bar. I ordered a drink.”

“Here, huh?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip. “It’s a cop bar, kid. Gimme a break.”

Jared refuses to do such a thing, especially when Morgan’s eyes lock onto Jensen and he moves that way. He locks a hand around Morgan’s bicep. “You walk over there, it’s the last thing you do before getting tossed outta here.”

“Quite the temper, huh? And here I thought Jensen was the angry one. Your face is looking better in this light, by the way.” Jared’s fingers flex around the arm and Morgan twists it but Jared won’t let go. Morgan lifts an eyebrow.

“What’re you up to?” Jensen asks from Jared’s side. “Besides ruining our friend’s party?”

“Just checking on your partner’s injuries. Seeing if he needs to file a report,” Morgan says with a small smile, obviously goading them both.

Jensen looks tense, more so than when dealing with Jared lately, which would seem impossible, Jared thinks. But it’s there, and Jared puts a hand at Jensen’s chest, carefully moving him away with a look. Because he’s seen this from Jensen before and, while it’s usually on a hard case with a harder suspect, it’s never pretty.

“I’m gonna go drink with my buddies there,” Morgan says, motioning his glass behind him where Jared and Jensen can see a few other guys – cops, likely, given their firm stares and rigid stances. “But if something comes up, be sure to let me know.”

As soon as Morgan’s out of earshot, Jensen grumbles, “God, I hate that dick.”

“Funny, after you bringin’ him coffee this morning,” Jared says before thinking twice on it.

Jensen pushes at him; it’s not hard or anything as bad as the punch two days ago, but it’s enough to mean something.

Jared tugs at the back of Jensen’s shirt before he gets too far then raises his hands in peace when Jensen throws him an ugly look. “Just … as warning? He’s thinking worse of you than I am right now, okay?”

“What’s that mean?”

“He’s asking questions,” Jared says, low and moving closer to keep it quiet between them. “And he’s trying to get under my skin and make me think more.” Jensen rolls his eyes and huffs, turning away but not leaving. Jared reaches to grab Jensen’s arm for attention but then lightens up and just holds his shoulder. He’s thankful when Jensen doesn’t shrug away from it, and he tries to speak lightly. “I’m not _trying_ to throw you under the bus. But he might. You tell me what’s going on and I can be on your side.”

“Noted,” he mumbles, and moves back to the table.

The next chunk of time is spent much like past few hours were, Jared watching Jensen talk to everyone in their group. But his mind is particularly stuck on how Harris slides closer to Jensen and he seems to go right with it, leaning in, smirking and making low jokes that no one else can hear but always make her laugh and smile right back. A time or two he winks at her, sending her into a blush, and Jared’s lungs almost don’t work.

It’s near closing time when Harris packs up her purse, finishes her drink, says something that makes Jensen’s eyebrow rise, and leaves the table. Jensen’s eyes follow her but Jared’s stay with Jensen. Then Jared and Jensen are looking at each other, and Jensen takes a long moment of just watching before polishing off his drink and standing. He doesn’t follow Harris out, and he doesn’t approach Jared; he moves to the other end of the bar to order another drink from the girl behind the counter.

Jared can see the bartender saying no, and then another patron next to Jensen argues with her for one, too. The guy gets angry, trying to reach over the bar, and Jensen stretches to keep the guy back.

In seconds, there’s shoving and missed punches, and Jared’s pushing people out of the way to get in there, but fails. Jensen’s quick with the defense and punches the guy a few times, but he’s no match for the weight this guy’s bringing, and the bulk of the other patron forces Jensen away before landing a few hits to Jensen’s face.

No one else is getting in, not any of their friends or staff, mostly because of the solid crowd forming around them to gawk at the fight. After throwing some people away and calling out, “Police, out of the way!” Jared finally breaks through, looping an arm around Jensen’s neck and another at his waist to tug him away.

Jensen’s wrestling against him, but Jared’s close to his ear, shouting, “Hey, it’s me, it’s okay,” and Jensen goes easy with him, all the way out the bar and onto the sidewalk.

“Damnit!” Jensen shouts with a hand against his face, and bends at the waist.

Jared comes up next to him, with a hand at his back and one reaching for the hand on his face, but Jensen smacks it away angrily and Jared loses it right there. “Would you _fucking stop_ and let me help you?”

He shoves at Jensen’s shoulder to get him upright and assess the damage to his face: he’s got blood at his mouth and above his eye, and despite how his lips are turned into a sneer, his eyes are dazed. “You’re such an asshole!” Jared barks at him but keeps inspecting the cuts. “I fucking saved you in there and you’re still pushing me away.”

The anger in Jensen falls away and he breathes heavy while Jared wipes some blood away with his thumb. “Just stop,” Jensen croaks.

“Fuck you, I’m not!” There’s a roll of Jensen’s eyes, and Jared goes on, still loud. “You’re no people person. You’re an asshole, and I can’t believe I even deal with you or care about you. Because you obviously don’t.”

When bodies spill out of the bar, especially with off-duty officers-cum-security eying them, Jensen tugs Jared’s arm to leave. He goes rather willingly just to avoid more trouble.

  


Jensen’s been sniffing and wiping at his nose, his mouth, his eye, clearing away blood that he just wipes across his palm. In the kitchen, Jared turns on the sink and nods at it so Jensen will clean his hands, and then Jared wets a clean dishtowel and gets to working on Jensen’s face.

“Ow,” Jensen says rather pathetically as Jared tries to clear away the just-drying blood.

“Shut up,” Jared grumbles and keeps going, only letting up a little pressure.

Jensen sighs then shifts to lean against the counter, and when Jared glares at him, he lifts his head with a hand between them. “Go on.”

Jared moves close and wipes at his brow, but goes easy, because while the cut isn’t particularly deep, it’s rather long and ugly.

“Wasn’t my fault,” Jensen sighs. Jared pauses for a second before clearing blood from Jensen’s cheek. “Just helping the bartender and the guy started in on me.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Jared returns, still focused on Jensen’s injuries.

It’s quiet beyond their labored breathing as Jared works. Then Jensen murmurs, “I do care.”

Jensen’s looking right at him. But Jared can’t take it, and is unsure what to say because he’s still beyond pissed that he almost hates himself for standing here and helping Jensen after the last two days of being frozen out. “No, you don’t,” he mumbles back.

“ _Yeah_. I do.”

He says, “Okay,” but it’s obvious he doesn’t mean it. Instead of going further with the conversation, he drops the towel on the counter. “You look awful.” After another moment, he steps away to leave.

Jensen grabs his wrist, has to pull hard to bring him back, and Jared rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Fuck you, no,” he says, and it’s actually got a bite of emotion behind it that’s not angry.

There’s a bubble of blood reforming at Jensen’s brow, and despite his thoughts on it, Jared reaches up, thumbs it away, and wipes it on the towel. “This is so fucked.”

“I know them, that’s it. I’m not part of anything else.”

Jared looks right at him, not knowing what else to do, not even with Jensen finally saying the words.

“Of all people, _you’re_ the one that was suspecting me of something, and you wouldn’t let it go when I kept saying so.”

“You weren’t exactly coming right out,” Jared argues, a little shocked by his own anger coming back to the surface, like when they first left the bar. “I _wanted_ you to say this the first time it came up.”

Jensen rubs at his mouth, wincing when he hits the wound at the corner, and it opens back up. He grabs the towel and dabs, then looks at the bloodied towel and chucks it into the sink. “How do you think it felt that you thought I would be a part of this?”

“How do you think I felt that it was looking that way?”

His eyes narrow, but more in pain than accusation. “You really thought I could’ve done that? Hurt someone? _Kill_ someone?”

“It’s just,” Jared sighs and looks up to the ceiling before letting it all out. “You went after that kid so fast and cornered him. Then you know everyone involved but weren’t admitting it upfront, and the picture comes out. And,” he sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “You start all this shit between us and push me away. You never had an explanation for not being accounted for. How could it _not_ make me think you were hiding something.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen murmurs, eyes just as soft as his voice.

“Yeah,” Jared breathes out, unable to say more at the moment.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jared can’t look at the pain in Jensen’s eyes, focusing instead on the cabinet knob just beside Jensen’s head. “I don’t know what to _do_ ,” he says with quiet emotion.

“Well, neither do I.”

“Morgan really thinks I’ve got something to do with it?”

Jared pushes the heel of his hand against his eye. “He thinks something.”

Jensen sighs and mumbles, “Shit,” before slumping against the counter, hands hanging low.

“You just,” Jared says, but cuts himself off.

“What?” When Jared won’t speak or look at him, Jensen stands up and pushes on, “No, c’mon. Say it. Whatever it is, I deserve it.”

He bites his lip and catches his breath, then finally just says it. “I hate you so much right now for all this. You do all this bullshit, and even beyond the case. The fucked up shit between us that you’re pulling. I’m trying so hard to keep it together when you’re just trying to walk away.”

Jensen shakes his head and murmurs, “I’m not walking away.” Jared huffs and Jensen reaches for his shirt, pulling him close but not so much that Jared has to force himself away. “I’m not, okay? But you were … Jared, for all that we are, partners, this, everything … you were honestly asking me if I did something. I was pissed as hell at you for that.”

“And I’m pissed as hell that you didn’t say it.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“Okay, and thank you for that,” Jared huffs then tries to steady his voice. “Seriously, thank you for finally saying it. But I can’t just step back into everything and pretend you weren’t doing all you could to stay away from me instead of work this shit out.”

“So, what now?”

Jared shrugs a little and stretches his neck, trying to ease away some tension. “I don’t know. Finish the case? Get Morgan off your back?”

“I mean us.”

Rubbing his hands over his face, he mumbles, “I don’t know.”

Looking resigned, Jensen glances across the kitchen. “The other night,” he says low, voice getting scratchy with fatigue. “When I said I didn’t want both, be this and be partners, it’s not that I don’t wanna be with you. I just wish it were _easier_.”

 _“It’s not.”_

 _Jensen nods and looks even worse than any feeling he’s shown in this conversation thus far. “Yeah.” After a few moments, he says, “I’m not good at compartmentalizing.”_

 _“I know,” Jared replies, because he really does, and it was never more obvious than this week. “I should go,” he says suddenly._

 _“No, it’s late. You should stay,” Jensen tries, then adds, “Or you wanna crash on the couch?”_

 _“Yeah,” he says, because he kind of does, but his head is also starting to pound from everything they’ve gone over. “I have to go home, though.”_

 _“Alright, yeah.”_

 _Before more can be said, Jared gets to the front door, Jensen just behind him. He looks back for a moment then forces himself to walk out._

 _  
_

 _  
_

 _It’s the first time his cell is ringing this early in the morning in more than a month, but Jared knows what it means._

 _“Tell me you’ll have coffee when I get there,” he grumbles into the phone._

 _There’s a small, restrained chuckle. “Yeah, you bet.”_

 _“Where is it?”_

 _“Left Bank,” Jensen says. “Good luck with the mess of lights and media.”_

 _Jared sits up and rests against the headboard, rubbing at his eyes. “Wait, what?”_

 _“It’s a murder, Jared.”_

 _“Yeah, I got that,” he sighs, willing himself to attention._

 _“Okay?” Jensen asks._

 _“At the Left Bank? I guess, I just thought it was … again.”_

 _“It is.”_

 _Jared scrunches his eyes closed, trying to figure that out. Left Bank Apartments are right along the River, but everything else has been _in_ it. _

“We’ll talk when you get here,” Jensen tries to put him at ease, but Jared can hear that even he’s uncomfortable with whatever it is.

  


When he gets inside the apartment, Jensen’s crouched over a body and nodding with Ferris.

“Hey,” Jared calls to the both of them. “What d’we got?”

“Strangulation,” Ferris says, keeping her eyes on her work. “I’d say at least twenty hours based on body temp and bruising.”

Jensen stands and pushes his hands into his pants’ pockets with a sigh. “Before you ask, I do _not_ know her. Personally, that is.”

It should seem strange, for Jensen to come right out and say it, but Jared can hear the tension in his voice and doesn’t file it as mocking, refusing to get riled up with it. Things have certainly changed in the last month.

They both eye the female body, petite, pale, distinctly white haired, and likely aged over 70.

“This isn’t the same as before,” Jared points out.

Jensen gives him a look, raising his eyebrows. “Fourteenth Floor.”

After a few thoughts roam his brain, he tries, “Gina Murray’s neighbor?”

Jensen nods, and Jared curses under his breath for not remembering their second victim’s apartment number until right then.

“Skin and hair beneath the fingers,” Ferris says, looking up at them. “But nowhere near as much as before.”

“I doubt she was much of a fighter,” Jared replies with a frown. “He probably overpowered her in seconds.”

The thought tears up his stomach, imagining a senior citizen being attacked because she might’ve seen or heard something. He turns away from the body, heading into the luxuriously decorated bedroom – shades of gold and cream accented by textured fabrics that Jared thought only existed in penthouses on Lake Shore Drive.

The opulence of the room continues onto the jewelry boxes across a vanity counter at the far wall. One chest, nearly two feet tall, is cracked open. Jared pulls a pen from his inside jacket pocket and uses it to nudge the door wider, finding a drawer for earrings, another for bracelets, and a spindle of hooks at the top with necklaces cascading down. He prods through the top drawer, pushing bracelets aside and mentally pairing each one to the hanging necklaces.

“No sign of disturbance in the bedroom,” Jensen says as he approaches Jared.

Jared takes a quick look around the room, frowning. “Yeah, I see.” Jensen nods at the chest Jared had been going through with a curious look. Jared shrugs. “Was hoping there’d be at least something missing. It was the only one open.”

“Place is spotless except a side table turned over in the foyer and a glass out on the kitchen table.”

“Fingerprints?”

“Lipstick. And it’s coral,” Jensen snorts. “I’m assuming it’s hers.”

Again, Jared’s eyes roam the space, thinking about how the windows open to the west, meaning the wall he’s facing butts up to the next apartment. He points his pen at the clean, linen-colored wall. “I’m afraid to ask.”

Jensen nods with a grimace. “Gina Murray’s old apartment.”

“So now he’s killing witnesses?”

“Looks it.”

A few voices rise in the front part of the apartment, becoming angry and disruptive. Jared and Jensen move into the living room, where a man in an exquisite three-piece suit is being blocked by one of the beat cops standing guard at the front door.

“Can we help you?” Jensen calls out as they got closer to the doorway.

“Perhaps, if I were given room to enter my own apartment,” he replies with a roll of his eyes to the officer still in his way.

Jensen and Jared glance at each other before Jared asks, “Your apartment?”

The man runs a hand down the breast of his jacket and clears his throat. “Phillip Stevens. Chief Operating Manager of Left Bank. If you do mind,” he adds to the cop with a small tilt of his head.

Jared and Jensen share another look, even a raised eyebrow. Jensen bites into his lip as he turns away and they both try not to laugh in the man’s face for his attitude. Jared smacks his lips together and nods at the officer. “It’s okay, let him through.”

Stevens begins talking the second he’s over the threshold. “My dearest condolences to Mrs. Cooper’s family. She was a very dedicated resident, been with us for more than a decade. She came to us just after Mr. Cooper passed and she sought out a committed home.”

Jared nods at the man. “She have any problems?”

“What kind of problems?”

“People coming by or bothering her?”

Stevens tuts and crosses his arms with an odd shake of his head. “I think you underestimate Left Bank. We have an extensive security system, staff at the door at all times, and an exclusive, hand-picked list of residents.”

“What makes up this extensive security system?” Jensen asks while eying the front door, his now-gloved hand sliding over the door jamb.

“Cameras and keycards for the front and freight elevator lobbies.” Stevens can’t hide his nerves at Jensen testing the deadbolt. “I assure you, Officer, the building is equipped with highly reliable technology.”

“You ever hear of any issues on the floor?” Jared cuts in, pulling his writing pad from his inside jacket pocket. “Any complaints from other residents?”

“No. Absolutely not,” he replies quickly with a push to his words. Stevens appears to take Jared and Jensen each in assessment, and the way his mouth tightens says he doesn’t think much of them. “Our residents aren’t more than you seem to think. We have no issues, Officer.”

“Detective,” Jared corrects with a smart smile.

“Excuse me?”

Jared flips his pad between Jensen and himself. “We’ve been doing this for a li’l while. We’re homicide detectives, not meter maids.” The way Stevens bristles makes Jared smile triumphantly and Jensen to snort and turn even further away from the conversation.

“Yes, sir,” Stevens says with another touch of a hand to his suit jacket. “But no, we’ve not had an issue here for the four years I’ve been in this position.”

“You sure about that?”

“Absolutely. No problem anywhere.”

“That’s funny,” Jared says with another big smile. “What about Gina Murray?”

“I’m sorry-”

“1408. She lived right next door.”

“You don’t think – this isn’t related. There is no way you could think it is.”

“Mr. Stevens, there’re a lot of ways I could think it is.”

Stevens levels a harsh look at Jared and his jaw juts out.

Jared grins, perfectly aware that it’s putting the man further on edge. “We’ll need a look at your _extensive_ security system if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” he replies, the clip of his voice betraying his statement.

“We’ll need the tapes from the cameras, front and back door. Anything in the elevators or the hallways. And from the week of Ms. Murray’s death.”

“That will … take some time.”

Jared nods. “Better get started then.”

It’s a long moment of Stevens staring at Jared, and Jared refusing to look away, until finally, Stevens takes a long breath. “Yes, _Detective_. I will.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Yes, right.”

  


Scrubbing his palms over his face, Jared sighs then rubs his hands over his stomach as he stretches back in his chair.

“You wanna get dinner?” Jensen asks.

Jared blinks at him a few times, trying to push exhaustion to the back of his mind. Food would be great, but he’s sure they should be around if Benedict or Ferris has anything preliminary to discuss. “Nah, I’m good.”

Jensen nods, scratching behind his ear as his eyes go back to his computer screen.

A few minutes later, Jared yawns and pushes a finger into the corner of his eye.

“Coffee?”

“I’d rather have a nap,” Jared admits. He tips his face toward the ceiling as he clenches his eyes against the strain of staring at the computer screen for far too long with too little sleep. “Morgan didn’t have anything from the neighbors,” he summarizes from the files he’s been raking over for the past three hours, ones Morgan had compiled back in April. “No one saw anything, barely knew her because she’d just moved in. They all said Gina Murray was inmemorable.”

“Unmemorable?” Jensen suggests with high eyebrows and a cynical tone.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.” He leans forward on the desk, head down as he yawns. “How long did Ferris say for ruling out DNA?”

Jensen looks to his watch. “Maybe another two hours.”

“Can’t believe no one saw or heard anything.”

“This time or last?”

“Either,” Jared says through a yawn.

“Why don’t you take Lieu’s office,” Jensen offers quietly.

“What?”

Jensen’s nodding past Jared with a careful look. “He’s gone for a while. Go use the couch. I’ll get you if anything comes up.”

He doesn’t really want to keep saying no to Jensen, hasn’t been intending to, but it’s been happening lately. They’re getting along, as well as they can while not spending any time together outside of working. And he knows Jensen’s making an effort to be nice, but it’s almost worse because Jared’s been keeping himself restrained just so he doesn’t upset himself with wanting more from Jensen than he could really get.

“Jay, just go,” Jensen says softly. They share a long look and Jensen’s mouth quirks. “You’re no good to me if you’re sleepwalking.”

“Yeah?” Jared shoots back with a smile. “And what kind of ingenious shit you gonna do without me here to inspirate you?”

Jared’s about to correct his exhausted brain when Jensen says, “I’m sure I can find something to _inspire_ me.”

They share a small smile and Jared feels his belly warm with it. Which is enough to force him to stand and turn away. “’Kay. Wake me in twenty. Just a li’l cat nap.”

  


It’s a rough shake to Jared’s shoulder that lodges him from sleep, and then he’s struggling to focus on Jensen’s face. Without thought or hesitation, Jared brings his hand up to Jensen’s arm, holding with his fingers sliding over Jensen’s shirt.

“Hey,” Jared whispers with a small smile. It takes just a moment for him to realize it’s dark outside and he had to have been out more than twenty minutes. “You let me sleep all night?”

“Not quite.”

Jared’s fingers grip hard enough that Jensen warmly squeezes his shoulder but then his face steadies into business as he backs away. “Got company.”

“Hmm?” His brain is still foggy, but there’s the distinct crash of something hitting the floor behind Jensen, and Jared jerks up to sit. “What the hell?”

Benedict flashes them a guilty, strained smile as his hands fumble with a paper weight and picture frame on Beaver’s desk. “You sure we should be in here?”

Jared rubs at his face to wake all his senses as Jensen snorts and moves to sit in an arm chair just off to the side. “It’s fine. What’ve you got?”

“A big mess,” Benedict groans.

“What’s wrong?” Jared asks.

“I think I broke it.”

They both look to Benedict holding pieces of a case that they know used to hold an autographed baseball their lieutenant cherished.

“Oh, Christ,” Jensen laughs, leaning forward to look under the desk. “Where’d the ball go?”

Benedict bends over, grabs the ball, and rights himself as he looks at it. “Oh, shoot. It’s dirty.”

Jared can’t react fast enough; Benedict licks his thumb and rubs at the ball before Jared shoots up and snatches the ball. “You an _idiot_?”

The crime scene tech’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“Minnie Minoso, man,” Jensen groans.

“Only Minnie I know is a mouse.”

Jared rolls his eyes and grabs the bottom half of the display case from Benedict. “Cuban Comet?”

“Mr. White Sox,” Jensen adds, idly looking over his palm then looking up at Benedict like he should know better.

Benedict mumbles, “I still don’t …”

“Are you even from here?” Jared asks with a long look.

There’re a few moments of fumbling hands as Benedict tries to lean naturally against the desk, but he bumps another picture frame and rights himself immediately. “I don’t think we should be in here.”

Jared snorts. “Are you … you’re scared?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of the Lieutenant,” Jensen clarifies.

“He terrifies me,” Benedict replies with a shake in his voice.

Jared looks to Jensen and chuckles, pushing a hand through his hair with his eyes still straining to stay open. “Alright, well, I’m not moving for at least ten minutes, so tell us what you have.”

“Right, okay.” Benedict nods and stands straight with his hands clutched in front of him. “Preliminary tests point to the same results as the last two scenes. Blond hairs on her clothes have _initial_ DNA particulates that match the others. Fingerprints are an early match along with the footprints.”

“Wait, footprints?” Jared asks suddenly, leaning forward just as Jensen does, too.

“Men’s, size 12. With the track patterns, I’d guess they were boots.” Benedict clears his throat and gives a nervous look. “But not cowboy. Maybe hiking. With a heavy imprint at the toe. I’d guess steel-toed. Rolls a bit in with extra weight on the instep.”

Jared raises an eyebrow at the last few points then glances at Jensen, who looks impressed as well.

Benedict continues, “The instep in particular was rather intriguing. It’s a muddled mark, showing wear and tear, but it’s heaviest in those spots. I couldn’t tell you where he got them but according to the markings and partial logo marks, they are definitely Carolinas. Amber gold.”

“Amber gold?” Jensen asked slowly.

“Yes. The color of the boot,” Benedict clarifies.

“You got that from a footprint?”

“I got that from where he’d kicked the wall near the door.”

Jared snorts and flicks his eyebrows in amusement even as Jensen rolls his eyes at him. “You’re not helping,” Jensen says, low and annoyed.

He puts his hands out in apology and smiles, but he drops his hands when the office door sweeps open and Beaver stares at them all.

“What’re you doing?” their lieutenant asks immediately.

Jared and Jensen stand calmly, but Benedict flinches, stumbling into the desk and knocking a file off the top. “Nothing, sir, Lieutenant,” he nearly shrieks then bends over to pick up the folder and papers that had fluttered across the floor. “We were, just, um-”

“We were waiting for you to return to give you an update,” Jensen covers, palming the baseball behind his back.

“Mmhmm. And all three of you had to be here to tell me?”

Jared smiles and points at Benedict. “Horse’s mouth and all that.”

“Right.” Beaver steps around his desk and when his shoes crush plastic, he pauses and looks down. His eyes immediately then find Benedict. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, sir?” Benedict asks, eyes wide as saucers.

“What’s this under my foot?”

“Um, I’m not sure, sir.”

Beaver pivots towards Benedict and puts both hands on his hips. “You tellin’ me my own crime scene techs can’t tell me when there’s a shattered display case on my floor?”

“No, sir, not that. I just. It seems as though …” Benedict looks up and pegs Jared with a sharp look. “Padalecki did it. He was sleeping in here and when he got up, he knocked it over.”

“What? No!” Jared harps.

“Benedict?” Beaver says gruffly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get out.”

“Of course, sir,” he replies just before rushing out of the office.

Jensen pops the ball to Beaver, who catches it easily. “He broke my case?”

“Looks that way,” Jensen says with a sour smile.

“That kid,” Beaver mumbles, shaking his head.

Jared smacks his lips. “If you wanna kill him, we’ll turn our backs.”

“No, I don’t wanna kill him,” Beaver barks. “I just wanted him outta my damn office. Gives me the creeps.”

“What?”

“Kid makes me nervous! All jittery and mumbling ‘yes, sir, of course, sir.’” With a sigh, Beaver drops into the chair behind his desk then scratches at the edge of his beard. “So what’s the news?”

“Nothing concrete yet,” Jensen says with a quick glance in Jared’s direction but not quite meeting his gaze. “Just a few things to tie to the other crime scenes.”

“Not surprised there.”

“There’re some preliminary matches,” Jared cuts in. “But no names attached yet.”

“You’re gonna have to get a hand to go with those prints if it ain’t in the system,” Beaver says, idly flipping through papers on his desk.

“What about Morgan?” Jared asks. Jensen and Beaver exchange a look and Jared gets antsy. “What? What’s going on?”

Jensen clears his throat and looks thoroughly uncomfortable. “Nothing.”

“Don’t look like nothing,” Jared complains.

“He’s just been hanging around on occasion.”

“Where?”

Jensen’s eyes are glued to Beaver and he bites into his lip. “My place.”

Jared’s can’t look over fast enough. “What? Since when?”

“Since a while,” Jensen murmurs, eyes not reaching Jared.

“How long?”

Jensen rubs a knuckle at his chin. “A few weeks.” At Jared’s huff, he adds, “Not every day. But I’ve seen him. And a car. There’s always a car.”

“Christ,” Jared sighs, pushing a hand over his hair then turning to Beaver. “You really can’t do anything?”

Beaver’s pressing fingers at his temple and keeping his eyes closed. His voice is incredibly low and tired. “His investigation is ongoing.”

“Lieu!” Jared complains.

“He’s not under my charge.”

“You can’t do a little talkin’ over at the 21st?”

“I’ve tried, okay?” Beaver yells. After another moment of closing his eyes and sighing, he looks back up and speaks quieter. “Jensen, I’m sorry. I can’t do much until he’s crossing lines. I’ve had talks and they say they’ll monitor the situation.”

“Monitor the situ-” Jared laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, right. They’ll put Jensen as number one suspect while we’re following another body. That’s _awesome_.”

“Jay,” Jensen murmurs. “You’re not helping.”

At that, Jared stops and breathes steady, tries to relax, because as much as he’s upset with Morgan still milling around and keeping tabs on Jensen, they can’t do anything about it. And he’s not about to get, or keep, Jensen fired up about it. He nods with a low, “Yeah, okay.”

“Keep me updated?” Beaver asks, eyes careful with Jensen.

“Of course,” he responds with a short nod.

Beaver’s mouth curls like it usually does when dealing with them and dishing out gruff orders. “You guys look like shit. Get outta here. Go home and sleep or somethin’.”

Jensen puts a hand to Jared’s back and steers him out with a quiet, “Sure thing,” as they move out the door.

“And someone get me a case for my God damn baseball!”

  


Jared waits until they’re outside and heading to their cars to leave for the night until he asks. “Were you ever gonna tell me he was following you?”

Jensen fiddles with his keyring. “He’s not _following_. And I was gonna tell you about it when it got bad.”

“Car outside your place ain’t bad?”

He licks his lip and looks away, and Jared tries in earnest to not watch Jensen bite down on his bottom lip.

“Jen?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles then goes on just as quietly. “I was just hoping it’d be over and I wouldn’t have to make it a thing. Didn’t want _you_ to make it a thing.”

Jared crosses his arms and steels his voice as best he can. “What do you mean?”

Jensen flips a hand towards the building in irritation but keeps his words steady. “Like you in there yellin’ and raisin’ a stink. I didn’t want to drag you into it to fight about it.”

“Jensen, that guy is making our lives hell with accusations-”

“That don’t go anywhere.”

“That get put on paper and make people look at us. We’re lucky we got Beaver on our side.”

“Yeah,” Jensen sighs, running a hand over his forehead then his neck. “You wanna get something to eat?”

“I don’t really think …” Jared trails off, giving quick glances to Jensen before repeatedly looking away when he can’t take Jensen’s strangled smile.

“No, that’s fine.”

“I’m not … I just wanna crash. We’re gonna have an early morning again.”

“No, I know,” Jensen nods, twirling his keyring around his finger. “I was just being nice.”

Jared breathes deep, feeling the twitch in his fingers to reach for Jensen, even just for a touch at his shoulder to say he knows. He finally says, “I appreciate it.”

“Alright,” Jensen huffs, bringing his shoulders up in confidence. “Busy day tomorrow. Let’s do it, huh?”

“Of course.”

  


“You got anything?” Jared asks the second he and Jensen are through the doorway.

“Yes. I have a lot,” Technician Speight rattles off quickly then turns on his stool and sweeps his arm around the lab. “Of tapes. Everywhere. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

There are indeed tapes everywhere. Likely a hundred, a bit more than that, stacked in random piles on any bit of clear lab space. Which, given how much evidence there is currently unconnected in their case, is not all that much really.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Jensen muses, slapping at Speight’s back.

“You both are impossible. I cannot believe you bring me dozens and dozens of tapes and turn around eighteen hours later and expect progress.”

“We only expect the best,” Jared says with a grin. “And that’s you, right?”

“Yes, exceptionally so. But still. You two are a two-foot ulcer burning in my stomach.”

“Then I suppose you don’t want this?” Jared asks as he drops a bakery bag beside Speight’s computer setup.

“Is that … ?” he asks warily.

“The best for the best,” Jensen says with a smirk.

“Max’s?”

The cocky smile on both Jared and Jensen’s faces are enough of an answer and Speight shrugs and reaches for the bag, mumbling, “Ulcer ain’t that bad.”

“How’s the footage?” Jared asks, dragging a stool close to the table and staring at a frozen frame that doesn’t show much more than the front lobby of the Left Bank Apartments.

“Not that great.” Speight makes quick work of the pastry in his left hand as he uses his right to work the dial set to the video equipment. The scene runs fast on the screen while Speight bites through the French cruller. His voice is muffled as he explains, “We had three gentlemen callers the night your senior citizen died, between the hours of 9 p.m. and 4 a.m. Now I’m trying to log anyone similar from the time of your li’l dish’s death.”

“Li’l dish?” Jensen asks with his eyebrows up high.

“The foxy brunette? Tall, with legs up to the heavens?”

“Gina Murray,” Jared says idly, eyes glued to the security tapes still zipping by.

Speight points the half eaten pastry at Jared, mouth still full with a large bite. “Yes, her.”

“Li’l dish?” Jensen repeats, this time with humor in his voice.

“Don’t forget ‘foxy brunette’,” Jared adds, but his words drop off as he leans in closer to the screen, eyes sharp on a man near the elevators who looks particularly antsy.

“It’s no wonder you haven’t gotten laid in years,” Jensen laughs.

Speight points at Jensen and narrows his eyes. “I get by. Plenty of women like my language.”

“Really?”

“I have bravado.” The second Jared reaches for the dial, Speight snaps to attention and smacks Jared’s arm away. “Hands off the goods!”

“Reel it back,” Jared says as he points at the lobby on display, now empty. “There was a guy, tallish, blond hair, doing his best to hide.”

Speight wheels the controls to rewind then walk the film forward at a slower rate while Jensen leans in between Jared and the crime scene tech, and all three watch carefully. The guy Jared had seen enters the frame, shoulders up high, hands clenching into fists before he tucks them into his jean pockets. He elbows the elevator button then rocks side to side, nervous or agitated, or both. When the doors slide open, he rushes forward, only to be nudged aside by a well-dressed woman exiting and shooting him a dirty look.

Right then, there’s a small flash of his face, profile just visible enough to make out the slight slope of his nose, the cut of his brow, and a bit of facial hair across his chin.

“Blow it up and print,” Jared says softly, eyes stuck on the one-inch block on the screen that holds the guy’s face.

They’re all quiet as Speight mans the computer to increase the photo area and print an increased copy of the screenshot, now pixilated and almost unrecognizable. But it’s enough that Jared feels a tiny thrill in finding _something_ to work with.

Jensen grumbles, “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Jared asks, spinning to face Jensen.

But Jensen just turns away and stalks to the door, angrily spitting out, “Son of a _bitch_.”

Jared watches Jensen leave the room then glances at Speight, who only shrugs and takes another bite of the cruller. Through his chewing, he mumbles, “Maybe you should go after him?”

He sighs and looks back at the screen, doing his best to ignore the familiar feelings of distrust, ones that had been dormant for a week or so of Jensen actually attempting to be normal, all rushing right back on him. “Can you match it?”

Speight huffs out a laugh. “You want a minor, one-inch profile matched?”

“Yeah, I do. Bring up the tapes from Monday.”

“What?” the tech asks tight and confused.

“C’mon, we’ll do it together,” Jared barely smirks. It’s a struggle to make it count. “It’ll be like a group project.”

“Always preferred solo work,” Speight mumbles but he switches tapes out and cues up the footage from two nights before they found Louise Cooper, right in the timeline for her death.

In half an hour, Jared spots the same build, similar cut of face, and instructs Speight to print extra copies of each snapshot. Five minutes later, he’s knocking on the doorway to Maite Schwartz’s lab space on his way inside. Her eyes are brighter than her smile when she looks up from her computer, which shows two blurry headshots with red dots blinking at specific spots of the faces.

“Jared Padalecki. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Need you to run this ASAP.”

Schwartz looks at the two photos he’s dropped on her table, fingers slowly sliding them apart before she looks up, mouth quirking. “You really overestimate how good I am.”

He smirks, cocking a hip against the edge of her workspace and swiping his jacket away as he slips his hand into his pants pocket. “I think I have an idea of just how good you are.”

“Flattery, Detective. Not the only currency around these parts.”

“What’re you lookin’ for?”

“There was a Max’s run this morning.”

Jared twists his mouth to hide a broad smile. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I smell jelly. And you have powder on your tie,” she says, nodding at him. “My powers of deduction are amazing.”

After dragging a hand over the front of his shirt and tie, thinking of the powdered jelly-filled he’d had as he walked out of the renowned bakery, Jared scratches at his eyebrow. “I said you were real good didn’t I?” Her mouth quirks again, playful smile creasing a dimple in one cheek as she stares up at him. “I’ll bring some tomorrow?” he offers

Schwartz smacks her lips and picks the photos up, scrutinizing each one. “Might have to make a run the day after, too.”

“For what?”

“Ain’t gonna be easy getting markers.” Her fingers are tracing patterns along the shape of the head, dotting the man’s eye, nose, chin. She taps at the photo then looks up warily. “You really want me to do this?”

Jared nearly rolls his eyes. “Anyone else here up for working? I’ll talk to them.”

“You’re asking me to match a fuzzy-faced douchebag?”

He laughs as he moves to the door. “That’s exactly what I’m asking. And you call the second you have even one marker singing.”

“Max’s tomorrow,” she calls out when he’s in the hallway. “And maybe some Philly Steak.”

“You get this done fast, I guarantee it,” Jared shouts back.

  


“If I’d have know it was you back on days, I would’ve come by more often,” Jared says as he signs into the log and nods thanks when Tal slides two check bags across the table.

“It don’t count when your partner’s sayin’ it first.”

As Jared tucks the screenshots into their own bags, he stalls and looks up at her. “My what?”

“Ackles? He’s been in the back for like two hours or something. I told you he’s been living in the stacks.”

Jared’s finger runs down the length of the sign-in tablet but Jensen’s name isn’t there. “What’s he taking?”

Tal shrugs. “Nothing. Just looking.”

“At what?”

“Helped him find some homicide files. Hell if I know what for.”

Jared knocks at the top of the counter. “Let me in.”

She pushes the button to release the catch on the swinging door then yells as he rushes by, “You checkin’ this stuff in or just leaving it for me?”

“It’s all on the log.”

He winds through the stacks until he reaches the back and finds Jensen cross-legged on the floor, a brown bankers box at each hip. Jared instantly recognizes a photo album they’d retrieved from Samantha Price’s dorm room and another album put off to the side that was found in Gina Murray’s apartment. He bites into his lip to keep from starting a fight, but he fails to keep his hands off his hips or his sigh quiet.

Jensen’s eyes slowly move from the dozen or so photos in his hand and up the length of Jared’s body. Their eyes lock in for a bit until Jensen blinks. He quietly says, “Hey.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Jared asks as levelly as possible.

“I don’t know, but there’s,” Jensen says low, sight back on the photos he’s been looking through. “I just remembered something from Samantha’s case. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Jared shifts his feet, changes his stance to keep the anger as light as possible, though he starts to feel the blunt edges of his fingernails digging through his pants. “What’d you remember?”

“I can’t really say.”

“Can’t or wont’?”

“I just. I don’t know, Jay,” he says tiredly as he flips the remaining photos over themselves. He grabs another handful to dig through.

Jared wants to push and force Jensen into an answer, but with Jensen softly saying _Jay_ in a tired, pleading manner, Jared releases some tension through a rough exhale. “Can you give me _any_ idea here?” Jensen’s eyes flash up for a moment then back to the photos. “You running out of the lab like that ain’t real promising. Nor is this.”

Jensen’s hands stop, eyes intent on the photos but he stays quiet.

“Tell me what’s going on and I’ll leave you be,” Jared says with a bit of annoyance. “But we’re not playin’ this game again.”

Slowly, Jensen twists, legs falling apart, and he rises as he grabs an errant photo off the ground. He licks his upper lip then flips the two photos together in one hand and puts them right in front of Jared’s eyes. “That’s going on.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before Jared rushes back to the evidence counter and snags the bagged photos from Tal, ignoring her complaints. Jensen’s walking towards him, meeting him in the middle of a long aisle, and they crowd together, photos side by side and Jared can’t help but draw a sharp breath.

“Son of a bitch,” Jared whispers.

Jensen chuckles, and it sounds more like relief than amusement.

“This is him. This is our guy,” Jared says, wonder and something close to worry in his words. “You know him?”

“Not exactly,” Jensen says, tensing beside Jared. But he casually moves his fingers over the photos that show a bearded, blond male tucked in amongst a half dozen people, including Gina Murray, and another that looks like a family barbecue with Samantha _and_ Sophia Price. “I remember he and Sophia knew each other. He was starting to hang around a bit when we were having trouble in the end.”

Jared focuses in on their new evidence, particularly the shot with Gina Murray. “What about with her?”

“Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure the guy has a brother named John.”

“The brother-in-law?”

Jensen tips his head to the side, eyebrows flitting up with an tight smile.

Jared’s chest heaves with nerves and elation at finding _so much_ in a matter of hours. There are so many thoughts coursing his brain that he can’t manage to keep them in line, and instead of something like _we should get this to Schwartz_ or _we gotta track this guy down_ he says, “You’re awesome.”

The corner of Jensen’s mouth twists with a grin, and he walks back to where he’d been sprawled across the floor. “Go get copies and then you can buy me a steak for my mad detective skills.”

  


They have Chad Murray’s file open across the laminated tabletop as they eat. Jared shovels forkfuls of baked potato into his mouth as he reads through the guy’s educational history, including time at University of Chicago with Sophia Price.

Jensen pushes his plate to the side, plastic clattering when it hits the window they’re sitting at. “Not what I was talking about when I said I wanted steak.”

Jared smirks as he finishes chewing his mouthful. “From what I remember you’re easy to please.”

“Not eight-dollar steak easy.”

“It’s classic,” he laughs. He looks at Jensen’s plate; the potato’s been demolished but the steak is only missing a third of its meat. “You’re not gonna eat that?”

“No, I’m not. But I’m fully prepared to order dessert to make up for this monstrosity.”

The waitress appears, flashing a skeptical look Jensen’s way. “Everything okay here, detectives?”

Jared spears Jensen’s leftover cut with his fork and drags it over to his plate. “Yeah, everything’s great. But my crybaby partner’s gonna need some pie to make him smile.”

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” Jensen corrects before glaring at Jared. “And I hate you. Remember who just blew our case open.”

“Sure, as long as you remember to not look a gift horse in the mouth. You were hungry and now we’re eating.”

Jensen closes his folder and leans forward. “We gotta get this all tied.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jared returns quietly, lips sucked in between his teeth. He bites into them with worry before puffing them back out. “We got a few good leads today.”

“Yeah,” Jensen sighs.

Jared looks out the window in thought. “Oh, crap,” he mumbles, sitting up and back in the booth.

“What?” Jensen asks, shifting to find the problem. “Crap,” he repeats, and they both watch Buckley and Wester smile at them cheekily, waving from the sidewalk before entering the restaurant.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Wester says with a smug smile. “How’s the policing business?”

“About as good as your suit.” Jared says with a put-upon smile. “Kohl’s?”

“Men’s Warehouse.”

“Nice,” he replies, clucking his tongue behind his teeth. He goes for casual as he shuts his file and turns to face them, arm resting right over the tab reading _Chad Murray_. “That tweed is very becoming.”

“We’re not here for fashion advice from The Mod Squad,” Buckley complains with a roll of his eyes.

Jensen flashes Jared an impressed smile as he moves to sit the same as Jared, doing his best to hide the name on the file in front of him. “I think that was almost a compliment.”

“I’m gonna take it,” Jared says. “You?”

“Most definitely.”

“Especially from a man in a sweater vest.”

“I actually like sweater vests.”

“I know,” Jared nods, smirking across the table. “You own quite a few.”

Jensen’s nodding along and about to say more but Buckley sighs, and Jared and Jensen both start laughing.

“When you two are done, we have questions,” Buckley snaps.

“I actually just ordered some dessert, so we won’t be done for a while,” Jensen says, pointing towards the counter where a dessert rack spins under a light. “Chocolate cake. It’s amazing.”

“We wanna know what Cooper has to do with the Alderman,” Wester says impatiently.

Jared and Jensen share a look and both sit back in their sides of the booth. “Nothing.”

“No really,” Buckley says, voice going nicer than it has in a long while, months probably. “You give us that and we’ll give you a bite on a big fish in the Alderman’s camp.”

“No, really, fellas,” Jensen says with an easy look. “We got nothing.”

The tight looks on the reporters faces drop and they slowly turn to each other before Buckley’s voice goes high. “Nothing at all?”

Jensen motions at Jared and they both shake their heads. Jared says, “Nope. Nada.”

“Wow,” Buckley mumbles, eyes going to the ceiling in thought.

“Yep,” Jared nods.

“You guys suck.”

Jared’s eyes bug out in surprise but Jensen looks confused then offended as he clears his throat and lifts a hand in the air between them. “No reason to get personal, guys.”

“No, really,” Buckley says, facing Wester, who’s nodding back at him. “No wonder this case is going nowhere. You got everyone connected to the Murrays but you can’t get _anything_ on the Prices.”

After a quick look to Jensen, Jared asks, “What do you think you know about the Murrays?”

“Well, I mean, they’re practically incestuous,” Wester says, nearly stumbling over his excitement. “Gina and John, Sophia and Chad.”

There’s another quick glance to each other but Jared and Jensen remain quiet as the reporter keeps going.

“I mean, yeah, Sophia and Chad never really got it going, always out of reach, but word has it he got in once or twice. You, too,” Wester smirks, smacking the back of his hand at Jensen’s shoulder. The words and the move make Jensen flinch, and Wester grins broadly. “Didn’t think you could hide that for long, did ya?”

“I’m surprised they let you stay on like this, actually,” Buckley adds on, moving to the side for the waitress to approach the table and slide Jensen’s slice of cake across the table.

Jensen’s phone beeps and his eyes are sharp on Jared as he pulls it out.

Jared doesn’t even know what’s going on, how to deal with it, what to respond with. They’re given another piece to the puzzle then told that some of their own evidence has gotten out. If the reporters go public with Jensen’s involvement, he’ll be yanked from the case in no time.

“What kinda story are you building here, then?” Jared asks with a crooked smile, trying to deflect their attention. “You want some insider info? A high profile story on the detectives after they solve the case? We can probably fit something in.”

Buckley smirks. “No, not after.”

“Now,” Wester adds. “Let us tag along. Share info. We can be partners.”

“Double partners.”

“Like a double date.”

Jared shoots Jensen a glance then nearly grins when Buckley elbows Wester and they both clear their throats. “That sounds swell, fellas,” Jared says. “We’ll pick out the restaurant. You both wear your best sweaters.”

Jensen goes back to his phone for just a moment, fumbling it in his hand then pocketing it. He slides out of the booth with his cake plate in hand and gives the reporters a tight smile. “You guys are great. I can’t wait for the double date, but we have real investigating to do.”

It’s just a second for Jared to rise as well, trying to not look like he’s rushing to grab the files off the table and meet up with Jensen at the counter. But he keeps shooting Wester and Buckley, who’re moving to their own both. Jared moves behind Jensen. “What’s up?” he whispers.

Jensen’s head barely turns, but he murmurs back, “We’ll talk in the car.”

  


“Beaver’s paging us back.”

Jared looks out the window, catching the way Jensen’s following the bend of Wacker Drive, heading north and absolutely nowhere near the station. “What’s he want?” he asks, trying to not get too antsy with Jensen’s anxious driving.

“Says Morgan’s there for a sit-down. I think he knows.”

With a sigh, Jared runs a hand through his hair. “If the _Sun Times_ has it, then he would, too. Beaver’s gonna yank you off?”

“It’s likely,” Jensen mumbles with a quick glance before he turns left onto Dearborn and speeds on through the next intersection and then angles the car for the next right.

Jared shakes his head, ready to ask what Jensen’s thinking. But after this many cases together, he knows exactly what’s going through his partner's mind. He grabs Murray’s files, flipping them open. “He lives at River North Park.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, shaking his head yet again. “He opens that door to you, will he know who you are?”

“Maybe?” Jensen shrugs.

Jared suddenly feels pessimistic about the whole situation. “Think he’ll talk to you? I bet a month’s pay he won’t.”

“Then you go up.” Jensen parks the car in a loading zone a few buildings back from the apartment complex and flicks the hazards. “I can wait.”

It takes less than ten minutes for Jared to find apartment 203, knock, wait, knock again, determine that no one’s home, and return to the car.

“Maybe we try his work tomorrow,” Jared offers once back in the sedan.

Jensen nods but doesn’t move the car, just shuts it off.

“Are we really gonna stake out his apartment? In the daylight?”

He gives Jared a longer look, eyes a little excited and smile barely forming. “It’ll get dark soon.”

Jared takes Jensen in, considers how he looks happy for the first time in a while. “You’re not nervous? Lieu finds out we’re doing this, he’ll take our heads.”

Tipping his seat back, Jensen shifts low and keeps his eyes right on the entryway for the brick, twenty-some-story apartment building just a few doors down. “I’m _excited_. We have a name. How’re you not excited?”

The rush in Jensen’s voice gets to Jared and he winds up smiling in spite of himself. “You got balls, man.” Jared chuckles a bit and tips his seat back. “Going up against the big dog. And Morgan.”

“This is still our case.” Jensen takes a deep breath and glances at Jared, eyes tight on him. “We go in and Lieu’ll take us right off of it. We’re not out of bounds.”

“Yet.”

“No, not yet.” After a few moments, Jensen murmurs, “You wanna go back?”

Jared twists his shoulders then digs into the seat. “In a bit.”

“I love your dedication,” Jared says with a smile as he drops a thin file onto Schwartz’s workstation.

She drags a hand through her hair, pulling some behind her ear, and smiles tiredly. “What can I say? I love Max’s.” She reaches for the folder, opening it and scanning quickly.

“Plans have changed.” Jared taps a finger at the opening page. “That’s Chad Murray. Abbreviated notes there with some headshots from years past. Need you to match it up with the pics from this morning.”

Slowly, Schwartz picks her head up, lips spreading just as slow yet wide. “I was looking forward to a challenge. This is cake.”

Jensen enters and, as if on cue, drops a take-out box next to the file. “Hope you like chocolate.”

Jared smirks and turns enough to welcome Jensen into the conversation. “Trying to show me up?”

“As much as possible.” He nods at Jared and says low, “Speight says Murray’s on tapes from before Gina Murray.”

Schwartz eyes them both then nods at the folder. “This really your guy?”

“Think so,” Jared says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Sat out front of his place for a few hours but nothing happened.”

She smirks then smacks her lips as she spins back to her station, grabbing the file. “I think a stakeout’s supposed to last a li’l longer than that, boys.”

“That’s what I said,” Jensen huffs. “He’s a little short on patience.”

“More like big on authority,” Jared returns with a sideways glance.

Scwartz nods, stifling a yawn then waves at them. “Well, I’m big on focus. So be gone.”

“No problem,” Jensen smiles, and heads to the doorway.

“Max’s,” she shouts when they’re into the hallway. “And Philly!”

“You’re wrapped right around her finger,” Jensen laughs, patting Jared’s back.

“You brought her cake.”

Jensen grins. “That’s ‘cause I’m a nice guy.”

“Sometimes,” Jared mumbles as they take the elevator down to the first floor.

  


“If I didn’t know any better,” Beaver’s saying when Jared and Jensen enter his office. “I’d say you two were just waiting for Morgan to leave.”

“Oh, did we miss him?” Jared asks, lacking remorse.

Beaver rolls his eyes. “Real cute. Now tell me about your guy.”

“Chad Murray,” Jensen cuts in, moving into a chair in front of the Lieutenant’s desk. “We’ve got a profile shot of him at Left Bank the night of Cooper’s death and a handful of other times the week before Gina Murray’s. If that’s not enough, he lives at River North Park Apartments and works at the Fitness Formula above Union.”

“And?” Beaver prompts.

“ _And_ ,” Jensen sighs, “He fits the bill. Six-foot-two, blonde hair, knew Gina Murray _and_ Samantha Price from way back when. Lives _and_ works along the river. It’s a good connection.”

“You talk to him?”

“Wasn’t home,” Jared cuts in. “Figure we’ll check the gym in the morning.”

“And what about the bad cop info?”

They share a look and Jensen seems tense for a second before clearing his throat. “Hasn’t really gone anywhere.”

“Who’s looking into it?” Beaver asks warily.

“Collins,” Jared replies. “He’s about the only one I trust right with this info.”

“Lehne know about this?” the Lieutenant asks, looking at Jensen.

Jared snorts, quickly glancing between Jensen and Beaver, shocked at the suggestion to work with Internal Affairs on the matter.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Beaver harps. “He knows dirty cops.”

Laughing with disbelief, Jared complains, “No way I’m walking anywhere near IAD. You want them sniffing around our case?” he asks, still laughing, as he looks over at Jensen.

Jensen puts his hand out and gives Jared a sharp look to silence him. He turns to Beaver and nods. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

Beaver nods then sighs as he settles his elbows on his desk and closes one hand over the another. “Look, Morgan’s calling loudly on this. You get a word with Murray first thing in the morning then we gotta talk seriously on this.”

“God, it’s like he doesn’t want us to clear the case,” Jared sighs, leaning against the back wall of the office.

The Lieutenant stares at him for a few moments before turning to Jensen. “This Murray kid? You know him like Morgan says?”

Jensen’s quiet when he finally says, “A bit, yeah.”

“How much is a bit?” Beaver asks with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t know that he thinks of me as police, but he could recognize me.”

“Well, you keep that quiet, you hear?”

“Of course,” Jensen smiles and nods.

Beaver sighs and wearily stands. “I’m tired of these hours. You two try to keep yourselves out of trouble for a day or two?”

  


“Know what would be awesome?” Jared grumbles as they walk past the Jackson Avenue doors leading into Union Station.

Jensen smiles. “To get this wrapped up right here?”

Jared chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “That. And if we could do it without a babysitter.”

Following Jared’s sight, Jensen spots Morgan heading towards them. The senior detective’s on his own but both Jared and Jensen can see the few other officers fanned out in the area. The extra cops are trying so hard for subtle, dressed in suits among the morning rush of businessmen, but failing with how intense they assess the passing commuters.

“Fancy meeting you boys here,” Morgan smirks.

“Yeah, real fancy,” Jared grumbles as he looks over Morgan’s head to his tagalongs. “Think you guys could be any more obvious?”

“If it’s enough to warn Murray that we’re looking for him, so be it.”

“Right, and scare him off,” Jared laughs at Morgan. “Real smart.”

“Jay,” Jensen murmurs, hand closing around his elbow and leading him to walk around Morgan.

All three men watch as Chad Murray rushes down a handful of steps, moving from the Caribou Coffee in the center of the plaza down to the walkway along the river.

“There’s my boy,” Morgan says quietly, grin evident in the words.

Jared reads the second Murray makes them, how his toe skids on the pavement, his hand rises with a paper coffee cup going up towards his face, and his hips spin like he’s thinking about splitting. A nearby detective steps towards him and that’s it: Murray’s running.

Jensen takes off first, charging like mad, legs and arms pumping to launch him through the throngs of people fighting their own way to work. Jared isn’t far behind, his speed and head above the crowd allowing him to keep up with Jensen, who’s doing a damned good job keeping up with Murray.

There’re people being shoved as they approach Adams, stalling only briefly at the intersection with cabs whizzing by. Murray shuffles between cars, eliciting honks and shouts from drivers, and Jensen follows right behind, with Jared only seconds back and Morgan and his guys trailing behind. When the crowds thin out the further they get from the train station, Murray rushes forward and Jensen speeds up, feet pounding the cement but staying right with him.

Jared loses sight when Jensen jumps forward, tackling Murray to the ground, but Jared keeps fighting between people until he hears a gunshot and freezes, skittering to a stop on the slick soles of his dress shoes. He shoves the last few people out of the way and runs forward. Murray’s slipping through more of the crowd, leaving Jensen on the ground, rolling to his side.

The first thought is to grab his phone, call it in, but he freezes and stares at Jensen’s back. One second later, Jared’s looking over his shoulder, shouting at Morgan to follow Murray and dropping beside Jensen.

“Jesus Christ, come on, you okay?” he rambles on, pulling at Jensen’s shoulder and wincing when Jensen flinches away. Jared’s fingers are bloodied, and he shuffles over Jensen, pulling at his partner’s jacket as carefully as possible. He yanks his phone out of its holster, immediately rattles off the codes for backup and an ambulance before he tosses the phone next to him and tugs at Jensen’s jacket again. “Where is it? Where’s the bullet?”

Jensen pushes at Jared’s hand grabbing everywhere. He’s groaning and crossing his eyes as he picks his head up. “Jared, stop. It fucking hurts.”

He strokes a hand over Jensen’s face. “You okay?”

“I’m fuckin’ peachy,” he grumbles, shuffling to get a leg underneath him, but he stops there.

Jared can’t look fast enough, eyes scrolling across Jensen’s body, up and down until he finally spots the red stains at Jensen’s collar.

It’s then that Jensen slowly slips a finger into the knot of his tie and pulls with great effort that does little to loosen the folds. “Alright, you can help me here.”

He moves Jensen’s hands away then undoes the tie and top few buttons of his shirt. The wound isn’t quite at the neck, but near it, looking more like a chunk of missing skin than a hole. Jared sighs at the thought that the bullet merely grazed Jensen, but he still covers the wound with a wide palm and hard pressure. “Third time I’m asking,” Jared says through gritted teeth. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’ll live, Mom.” Jensen shifts to get more comfortable, leaning against the railing along the river. He even tilts his head away to let Jared put his hand back in place to stop any further bleeding. “Fucker hurts like hell.”

“It’s your shoulder, dumbass,” Jared points out rather kindly with a small smile. “Of course it’ll hurt.”

“He got away, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m totally blaming you when you stop bleeding.”

Jensen grunts as he rubs at his knee. “I’ll take it.”

“And thank you for scaring the shit outta me, Christ,” Jared huffs out as he moves to Jensen’s side and kneels more comfortably.

“I had him.”

“I know,” Jared says, smile returning for a moment. “You ran like the wind.”

Jensen gently smiles. “Make sure you get that part in your report.”

“I was right behind you. In case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh, of course,” Jensen grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Could’ve gotten him myself.”

“And _you_ would’ve gotten shot,” Jensen points out, slanting his head further away but wincing with the stretch. “And you’d bitch worse than me.”

“I would’ve found a way to avoid it.”

“You’re insufferable.” Jensen looks at him from the corner of his eye. “When’s the bus comin’?”

He laughs. “Soon. Don’t worry.”

Jensen takes a deep breath, releasing it as he stares in the direction Murray, Morgan, and the other officers disappeared to. “He doesn’t know I’m a cop.”

“What?”

“Murray. He was bitching about me being a traitor, going against old friends or something.” Jensen twists to look down at his shoulder. “Then he pulled the gun.”

Jared laughs disbelievingly. “How in the hell? You’re wearing a _suit_ and we’re _chasing_ him.”

Jensen flicks his eyebrows up and then shakes his head. His voice drops, sounding tired and rambly. “He wasn’t ever a smart guy, really. Hardly bought a clue from Sophia when she wanted nothing to do with him. And did you see his transcripts? He was in _remedial English_.”

Rolling his eyes, Jared fights to laugh at the last bit, or even be annoyed with Jensen trying to crack jokes while he’s bleeding. “Jen.”

There’s a moment where Jensen looks amused but then his face clears of emotion and he just stares back at Jared.

Feeling the gravity of the situation, Jared’s voice drops. “I think this is gettin' tougher than we’d planned.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says before smirking. “But we’re tough, too.”

Jared rolls his eyes but ends up smiling as he turns far enough to still hold tight to Jensen’s shoulder but also watch paramedics rushing down the sidewalk.

  


Jared enters the room to find Jensen in front of the long line of mirrors, grey v-neck tee giving way to the white bandages creeping up from his shoulder. “You good?” he asks, looking at Jensen in the glass.

“Yeah. Just a little tight,” he replies, barely rolling his shoulder.

“Baby’s first gunshot.”

“Shut up,” Jensen says, tossing a bunched up ball of medical tape into the sink.

“You done?

“Yup,” he answers with a nod. “All taped up with nowhere to go.”

Jared smiles awkwardly and moves forward to grab Jensen’s short, black leather jacket off the counter above the sinks. He holds it open for Jensen to slip on but doesn’t look up. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Jensen slowly slides one arm in then the other, using his good arm to tug the opposite sleeve down then to pull the collar up so it covers his bandages. “It’s the only one we got.”

“You really wanna follow Murray around? After he shot at you?”

“ _Especially_ after he shot at me.”

“Jen,” Jared murmurs, finally looking at his partner, eyes warm but stuck on Jensen’s.

“You got a better idea, I’m all ears. But we know where he’ll be tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting him out of our sight again.”

“You of all people? Why you?”

“Why not?”

Jared sighs and starts to twist away. “Because he fucking _shot you_. And you’re wounded and he knows you and fuck knows what he’s gonna do next time.”

“Well, good news,” Jensen says with a small smile. “We know he’s dangerous. We know to watch out.” Jared tips his head to the side with a tired look, and Jensen sighs, grabbing Jared’s biceps and getting his full attention. “We didn’t know this morning and the guy pulled a gun. I’ll be lookin’ for it.”

“He’s got you now,” Jared argues. “He knows who you are.”

“Yeah, and he’s stupid enough to talk to me. I remember that much from when I knew him.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Jensen lightly shakes his head with a twisted smile. “You’ll be there when he runs, right?”

Jared nods immediately. “Of course. Around the corner in the van.”

Jensen smiles, squeezing at Jared’s arms before releasing. “See. I got the best backup possible.”

His eyes go right to Jensen’s shoulder, to where he knows the white gauze is underneath black leather and gray cotton. “Where’s your wire?”

“In my pants.”

Jared looks to Jensen then rolls his eyes, trying not to smile or laugh at Jensen’s raised eyebrow. “Dick.”

“Not there, but you’re warm.”

He finally laughs, liking the way Jensen does, too. But then Jared thinks right back to the split second along the river that morning when all he saw was Jensen’s blood on his hand. “Be careful?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

On reflex of his worry, Jared reaches with a careful hand over Jensen’s wounded shoulder. He slides the palm up to Jensen’s neck and holds softly. “Just, stop asking and do it? Please?”

Jensen’s mouth flattens to a thin line, eyes steady on Jared. “Yeah. Yes. I will.”

Jared’s fingers slip across the back of Jensen’s neck, feeling the short, shorn edges of Jensen’s hair at his fingertips. He leans forward, presses his lips to Jensen’s for just a moment. “Thank you,” he murmurs, hardly moving away.

Immediately, Jensen moves back in, mouthing against Jared, tongue barely brushing over lips. Jared warms with it, feeling the comfort and familiarity of Jensen right here, even when it’s been over a month since they’ve been together this way. They’re sluggish with the kiss, mouths tentatively going wide, tongues barely coming out to touch, as if either is afraid of it going too far, too fast.

Jensen’s hands settle at Jared’s hips before smoothing around and just under the back of his zip-up sweatshirt and pulling him in closer. Jared’s hands presses more insistently, one at Jensen’s neck and the other up his side. With their chests touching, Jared’s badge, hanging from his neck, presses hard between them. Shocked from the moment, Jared stops, pulls back, and looks at Jensen. He breathes hard and just watches Jensen watch him. Then he gently smiles and rubs the pad of his thumb over Jensen’s ear before he remembers what they’ve got ahead of them for the evening and sobers up.

“Anything goes bad, you get out,” Jared says, knowing it’s ridiculous to plead in this manner, considering their jobs. But there’s no way he’ll feel good about any of it unless Jensen agrees with him.

“Yeah. I will.”

  


Camped in the surveillance van, Jared keeps one side of the headset to his ear as he stares into the far corner. Jensen’s voice comes in with pieces of conversation as he orders a beer, settles next to a stranger, makes small talk about basketball highlights on the news. There’s nothing going on and Jared shakes his head with the frustration of sending Jensen into a bar when Murray’s probably gone or not showing up at all.

It’s another twenty minutes before they hear a low pitched, “You come back so I could finish the job?”

Jared sits up, chills running under his skin at the idea. He presses the headset to his ear as he points at the surveillance tech next to him. The guy turns the volume up so they can better hear the conversation.

“Heard they had good beer on tap and that you’ve got nasty aim,” Jensen says.

“Can only do so much when I’m on the run. What’d you expect?”

“Honestly?” Jensen chuckles. “Thought you’d miss entirely. What were you shootin’ for anyway?”

“Ten cops on my ass, you think I’m not gonna fight?”

“Fair enough.”

“Didn’t know you were working with them. They get you to help after Gina showed up done?”

Jared’s breath catches with Jensen’s pause, realizing that Murray doesn’t even know that Jensen’s a cop, that he’s one of them and could arrest him right there.

“Something like that,” Jensen replies. “What d’you know about Gina? Or Samantha even?”

“You kidding me?” Murray shrieks then chuckles darkly. “Like I’mma tell you anything after you turned them onto me.”

“No, seriously here? I offer them help and get shot. You think I’m trying to help right now?”

“Then what’re you doing here? What else than to get me arrested?”

“Look, man, I’m here to help. To warn you. They got stuff and are pretty sure you’re it.”

“For what?”

“For Gina.”

Murray sighs. “And what else? They get me on Samantha, too?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Shit went bad there.”

There’s a pause before Jensen speaks. “Like what?”

“Her dad … man, her dad’s in all kinds of shit.”

“Jon always was.”

Jared nods along with Jensen’s work, in Jensen getting Murray to keep talking. And the guy does, relaying information about the Alderman and bribes – paying, though, not accepting. That he had cops in his back pocket for anything and now that he was done filling pockets, threats were pouring in.

“How’d _you_ get involved with it?” Jensen asks, low but interested, like he’s just looking for gossip not a confession.

“Old Jon had me watching her.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. And to make sure she was staying out of it. Her and some boyfriend were snooping around. Jon didn’t want his little girl finding out he’d been fishy. Let alone get wrapped up in crooked cops.”

“You know what happened to her?”

“Maybe,” Murray snorts.

There’s a long pause then Murray’s voice comes even lower. “Look, I’m not saying it, but people were told to keep her quiet.”

“From her dad?” Jensen asks harshly.

“No. The hands he’d been feeding.”

“What about Gina?”

“Wasn’t supposed to be that way, but she found out who was behind it.”

“And you?” Jensen tries to lead. There’s no answer from Murray, but Jensen’s voice gets a little sharp. “Shit, are you serious?”

“Gina wasn’t supposed to go down. Just was a warning.”

“You killed her?” Again no answer from Murray, but Jensen keeps asking variations to get the words out, making Jared assume that Murray’s giving visual cues but not opening his mouth.

Then there’s a longer pause, a bit of shuffling, and Murray’s voice. “Why’re you asking?”

“Just ‘cause,” Jensen argues, but it sounds a bit weak by now.

“’Cause what? You got a wire or some shit?”

“No, not even. I told you. I’m here to talk to you.” There’s a rough knocking noise then Jensen huffing. “Man, what’re you doing?”

“Lookin’ for your wire, asshole.”

There’s more knocking around, rustling of fabric, Jensen mumbling _Jay_ , a distinct snap, and then complete silence.

Jared tilts his head, pressing the headset even tighter before frantically asking, “What was that?”

The surveillance tech is running his fingers over buttons and cords tying the whole setup together. “I don’t know.”

He shoves the guy to the side and looks over the board. “Was that his wire?! You lost his wire?!”

“ _I_ didn’t lose it!” the guy shouts back.

Jared looks up, a clear line out of the van’s side, tinted window and north down Halsted towards the bar Jensen’s in. He breathes heavy, seconds stretching on until he sees Chad Murray running out of a doorway and to the far end of the block. Jared can’t get out of the van fast enough, stumbling down the back hitch and onto the street before righting himself and chasing after Murray, even as he turns east.

Before Jared reaches the bar, Jensen spills out of the place, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jared, but then he shoves at Jared so they can both sprint forward.

“Fucker found the wire,” Jensen says between harsh breathes as they race around the corner, heading east with Murray still in their sights.

Jared can’t answer, mind too freaked over the possibilities of what could’ve happened if Murray wasn’t intent on running away from every threat that day.

As they reach the bridge passing over the interstate, Jared takes deeper breaths, pushing himself on. “He got a gun?”

“Not that I could tell.”

“Did he nod? That fucker nod?” Jared pants out as he keeps running, ignoring the burn in his throat and chest.

“Just shut up and keep running,” Jensen mumbles just before he kicks into high gear and races ahead of Jared.

They keep an eye on Murray as he turns left onto Jefferson, right at Jackson, left at Canal. They’re close enough to follow, taking a right at Adams and sprinting the straightaway.

Murray reaches the river and looks back, jogging further up the bridge. Then launches himself over the railing, dropping into the water. Jensen reaches the edge of the bridge first, where it’s higher and he has to jump up a cement post, feet and hands scrambling for a grip.

From behind, Jared wraps arms around Jensen. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare!” Jared yells as he pulls at Jensen’s neck and at his waist, yanking him off the blockade.

They stumble back, falling to the ground and wrestling, Jensen trying to get out of his reach. But Jared keeps grabbing at his arms, finally getting legs around Jensen’s thighs and clamping down as his arms wind tight around his torso.

“What the fuck’re you thinking?” Jared shouts.

Jensen’s chest heaves with aggression but he doesn’t answer.

“He’s not worth it. Let him drown.”

Just a few moments more and Jensen finally releases the tension in his body, falling loose against Jared. He wraps a hand around Jared’s wrist at his waist and holds it. When he has his breathing steady, he says, “Fucker nodded at me. He killed Gina. He nodded.”

  


Jared flinches each time Beaver’s voice rises, hip bumping the side of Jensen’s desk, and Jensen winces just as many times from where he sits in his desk chair. They can’t see the Lieutenant, but the man’s anger is enough to inflict guilt and fear.

Crossing his arms across his chest and ankles over each other, Jared hangs his head, staring down the length of jeans, dirtied and ripped at one knee thanks to Jensen’s resistance at the river just a few hours earlier.

“If I wanted my guys walking into a bar to catch a killer, don’cha think I would’ve signed for it myself?!” Beaver shouts from within his closed office.

Jared cringes at the image of the surveillance tech and that guy’s supervisor shredded within an inch of their careers because Jared and Jensen smooth-talked the department admin into giving them just _one_ wire and _one_ tech to assist. They’d argued that it was minimal equipment and time, and it really seemed like a great idea at the time. Though right now, Jared’s mostly pissed that he didn’t attempt to add a camera to the favor so they didn’t have to rely on Jensen’s account of a head nod.

 _“Maybe he’ll be winded by the time we get in there,” Jared mumbles._

 _Jensen snorts, leaning back in his chair to look up to Jared. It’s a long moment, eyes tight to one another as Jared’s mind flips between Jensen’s shoulder, Chad Murray’s possible confession in the form of a silent nod, and the way Jensen had kissed him in the bathroom. Like it was the most important yet delicate thing he’d do that day. The way Jensen’s eyes are soft on him now says he’s been thinking about it, too._

 _Jared bites at his lip then tilts his head to the ceiling. On a day when Jensen’d been shot, uncovered for a wire, and then nearly launched himself into the late-spring chilled waters of the Chicago River, that kiss just might’ve been the most significant thing between them. Considering the last few months for them and their relationship, Jared has to admit it probably is._

 _“In addition to endangering my detectives, you’re close to screwing this case right over!” Beaver bellows. “Chain of command. Ya ever hear of it?”_

 _They take to staring at the door, because knowing their boss, he’s rearing up for his closing statements of evidence protection and procedure when having to answer to the District Attorney._

 _“And if that asshole of a D.A. comes tearin’ _me_ a new asshole, you better believe you’re gonna be my date for the occasion.”_

Jared’s face twists in confusion as Jensen shifts to look up at him. “I don’t even know,” Jared mumbles, trying to ignore Jensen’s chuckle in fear that he’ll start laughing, too.

The door swings open, and Jared and Jensen both straighten to attention, watching the surveillance tech and supervisor slowly move through the doorway with Beaver’s voice still carrying on behind them. “And I got no problem burying you guys down with paperwork for the next month to fix this! Don’t think I’m afraid of a few paper cuts!”

The tech and supervisor shoot Jared and Jensen ugly looks before passing, and then Beaver’s staring at them. Long seconds drag on until Beaver huffs and sweeps a hand into the air. “Despite popular opinion, I ain’t got all night. Get your asses in here.”

Jared watches Jensen rise and they both slowly move forward with dread.

They’re not even seated when Beaver smacks the door shut. “Murray’s gone in the wind,” he bitches. “Got divers in the river and they haven’t found a damned thing in two hours.”

“Well, it is kinda dark,” Jared mumbles in joking before he can help it then winces as Beaver’s sharp glare.

The lieutenant’s voice gets eerily calm, though they can sense the tension it takes for him to keep it so. “Now, I seem to remember asking you two to stay outta trouble for a few days.” Jared shoots Jensen a look, but Beaver stands right in front of Jared and pushes his tongue against the inside of his lower lip in aggravation. “Did I not?”

“Yeah. Yes,” Jared quickly corrects. “Yes, you did.”

“It ever occur to you to listen to me once in a while?”

Jared smashes his lips together to avoid wincing or talking back. Jensen’s the one who speaks. “If I can?”

Beaver moves in front of Jensen. “No, you _can’t_. You, Ackles … you get yourself _shot_ , bypass paperwork and authorizations to wear a God damned wire, then chase your suspect _on foot_ , and nearly jump off a bridge?” Beaver laughs bitterly. “You bet your ass you’ve got yourself more than enough shit goin’ against you right now.”

“Okay,” Jensen agrees tightly.

With a deep breath, Beaver moves behind his desk, snapping the jacket off the back of chair and sliding it on. “I don’t wanna see your faces for at least twenty-four hours, and I fucking mean it this time. Hodge and Kane are on Murray’s building for the night. Collins and Harris will be there in the daylight. In the meantime, how’s about you two get your brains locked in tight, sleep a little, then do some real detective work. Try leavin’ the extreme violence to the criminals.”

They don’t have a chance to respond because Beaver yanks his door back open, and he’s out of the office before either can fashion a response.

“I vote for bar,” Jensen says without moving.

Jared doesn’t bother checking his watch before mumbling, “Think it’s too late for even that.”

Jensen lifts his hands to scrub at his face, but then winces with the movement of his bad arm. “I need a drink.”

Sighing, Jared closes his eyes. “I’ve got a bottle of scotch.”

  


Jared rolls the highball glass against the edge of his knee and stares at the ceiling, waiting for Jensen to return from the bathroom. It’s been a little while since he’d closed the door behind himself, long enough for Jared to realize that he’s not entirely drunk, but he’s warm and easy. And about to laugh as he leans over the edge of his couch to call out, “You havin’ trouble? Can’t manage to piss with one good arm?”

Jensen walks into the hallway, pads down the hallway, and smacks Jared upside the head as he passes by to drop into the other end of the couch.

Grimacing, Jared pushes his foot into Jensen’s knee hard enough to make Jensen flinch. But then Jensen’s hand grabs at his ankle and squeezes. Jared doesn’t bother moving away; instead he shifts to lean back on the arm of the couch and keeps his foot in Jensen’s lap with Jensen’s fingers swiping just under the edge of his jeans.

With the light touch of fingers, Jared twists his foot around and Jensen lifts his hand up, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jared replies just before taking another sip of his drink. “Just … felt funny for a sec.”

Jensen chuckles and rests his arm across Jared’s shin, hand loosely cupping his socked foot. “So, what d’we do tomorrow?”

“Sleep?” he offers with a weary look. “I’d like to sleep once in a while.”

Another chuckle and Jensen’s fingers tap at the bottom of Jared’s foot. “Think Lieu’ll kill us if we go down to the river?”

Jared finishes the last bit of his drink and drops the glass to the carpet below. “I’m pretty sure he’ll strangle us to near death then force us to do some paperwork. Carpal tunnel’s a mean bitch.”

Jensen chuckles, tipping his head against the back of the couch. “Maybe sleep is a good option then. I’d hate to nearly die with little rest and a hangover.”

“I’d offer up my couch but I know you won’t stay the night.”

Tipping his head over, Jensen gives him a long look. “Jay.”

He licks at his lip and turns his face up to the ceiling again, not even knowing why he’d said it, but unable to take it back now. “Jen,” he parrots.

Jensen squeezes his foot. “Jay,” he says, more playful this time.

“Yeah?”

Again, Jensen squeezes and runs his fingers up and down the arch of Jared’s foot. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Jared asks on a sigh, looking right at Jensen. When Jensen’s mouth quirks and his eyes soften, Jared feels something turn in his stomach, but he’s not sure he wants to think about it. He pulls his leg from Jensen’s lap and rolls off the couch, grabbing his glass on the way up and to the kitchen. He pours a few fingers of scotch into his glass and goes back to the couch. He’s seated much the same way, but keeps his knees bent up, feet flat on the cushions, not nearly as close to Jensen as before.

It doesn’t seem to matter because Jensen shifts over, and leans against Jared’s shins, hand careful against his thigh. He keeps the same gentle look and rests his chin on Jared’s knee, and Jared has to roll his eyes and hide a smile at the way Jensen smirks at him.

Before he can protest, Jensen slides his hand up to Jared’s knee, nudging it to the side so he can move into the v of Jared’s legs. Jared breathes deep, leaning back, away, but not stopping Jensen from his slow shift, moving up Jared’s body. Closing the space between them, Jensen keeps one hand in the cushions next to Jared’s hip. He stops when their faces are inches apart.

Jensen's eyes flick between Jared’s, seeming to ask for permission, but Jared can only watch him back, pushing into the arm of the sofa to keep distance. Jared's not even sure what he wants here, even while it seems inevitable that Jensen’s about to make a move.

Leaning further in, Jensen gets near enough to kiss, but he pauses. His warm breath puffs over Jared’s lips, and Jared has to steady his lungs, breathing carefully before just closing his eyes and giving Jensen the green light. Which Jensen takes, going the extra inch as he licks his own lips, tongue just brushing Jared’s mouth before he kisses him. With Jensen pressing closer, Jared sinks into the couch, letting Jensen settle against him as their mouths move slowly, tongues as tentative as they were at the station hours ago.

Jared finally touches back, hands gentle along the curve of Jensen’s back before slipping beneath Jensen’s worn cotton tee. A noise sounds in Jensen’s throat, a light hum, and Jared nearly chuckles with it, palm tight to the small of Jensen’s back. They both shift, Jared down into the couch and Jensen right over him, just lying together, bodies warm and loose as they keep kissing like they have nowhere to go, and Jared can’t remember the last time they had something this soft and easy between them.

Without thinking, Jared slides a hand up Jensen’s side, over his shoulder and reaching for his neck, but Jensen whimpers and rises to his knees, hand covering the very edges of his bandages. Jared narrows his eyes for a moment then frowns. “Oh, shit,” he sighs.

Jensen smiles sadly and shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m the ass who tried wrestling with him.”

Jared huffs out a laugh, licking his lips as he stretches his legs out and closes his eyes. He feels drained, ready to sleep, unable to figure out what to do with Jensen right here. But it’s easy when Jensen drags his hand over Jared’s thigh, resting at his knee, and it feels like everything he’s known for the year or so of them together, before the last few months were nothing good.

Before Jared can stop himself, he murmurs, “You wanna stay?”

“Yeah, I do.” They share a long look before Jensen licks his bottom lip and bites it. “But my shoulder’s killing me.”

It’s a weak excuse, given that Jensen just keeps looking at him, or even _how_ he does. Eyes hazy but intent on Jared’s face

At the same time, it’s too familiar; the moment Jensen pulls back, Jared’s even more drawn to him. He can feel the string reeling him in, and he’s sitting up and getting close with a hand reaching for Jensen’s jaw. Even when he knows he should leave it be, he blames the scotch, the way Jensen looks, how Jensen sounds all humble, even when he’s not doing a damned thing to stop Jared from hauling him in to take his mouth.

Lips slide together and over each other with tongues tangling and swiping wet and dirty, almost like they’re fighting. But this is how it uncoils on a day like today, when adrenaline was at an all time high, constantly building, not just once, or twice, but three times now.

Jared’s hand roams down Jensen’s back, over the curve of his ass in these perfect jeans that Jared hardly ever sees, but wants to know more of. Fingers knead and grope, tugging Jensen closer until he crawls into Jared’s lap, ass immediately grinding down on Jared, creating delicious friction of denim. Not nearly enough to get off, but enough of a burn to set his nerves alight.

Curling arms around Jared’s shoulders, Jensen holds tight and rocks against Jared, dick hard in his jeans but getting enough pressure with the firmness of Jared’s body. Because he’s then moaning into Jared’s mouth, wrapping his arms tighter, hands gripping at Jared’s hair as he directs the kiss. They get messier as they go on, smacking lips as loud as their harsh breathing. And Jared mostly goes with it, takes all that Jensen gives him as he’s trapped between the couch and the crush of Jensen’s body grinding into his.

It’s then that it hits him, all the other times he would push Jensen away, because of his own selfish rules, his need to put boundaries between the wants of his life and the dedication to his job, to a case. His mouth slows on the thought, slowly drawing back even as his dick throbs in his pants, wanting just a few more minutes of Jensen all over him.

Jensen breathes against his cheek, body slow with Jared’s, voice hushed. “What’s wrong?”

Jared rests his hands at Jensen’s thighs, refusing to grope but unable to push him away. It’s not just the tradition, but it’s not solely this thing between them being royally screwed for weeks. It’s both and a little bit of something else that nags Jared to not go somewhere he would normally be adverse to if not for the liquor and long hours.

“Sorry,” Jensen mumbles, slipping back as he brings some control to the situation and sits back on the couch.

Letting him go, Jared is grateful for the way Jensen doesn’t question him or complain. Jared looks up for a moment, just barely catching the way Jensen rubs a hand at his jaw, how he resolutely keeps his face from Jared’s view.

Jared clears his throat and stands, grabs his glass from where it’d fallen to the floor in the mess of getting frantic together, and walks on to the kitchen strictly to put distance between them. At the sink, he takes a long breath, catches the digital numbers on the microwave saying it’s nearing sunrise and he sighs.

“It’s probably better if you stay anyway,” Jared admits. “Take the bed or something instead of even trying to drive right now.”

Jensen’s now standing in the center of the room, hand flexing around his jacket as he glances at Jared. “Couch is fine.”

He’s ready to argue against Jensen’s shoulder, but he doubts the guy will do more than sleep off enough exhaustion and alcohol to head home in a few hours.

It’s just three hours later that Jared’s phone beeps, persistently buzzing every few minutes and keeping him from ignoring it. Rolling over, he snatches it off the nightstand, eyes bleary on the words but he understands enough and stumbles out of bed, down the hall, and into the living room.

Jensen’s sitting up on the couch, blinking at his own phone and head tilting in all directions in long stretches before he looks over to Jared. Licking his lips, Jensen’s eyes narrow, clench shut, then open wide. “Sleep, huh?” he complains with a rough voice.

Jared leans at the doorway and nods at Jensen. “What’s yours say?”

“Wabash and the river. Now.”

He doesn’t bother noting he has the same message, just heads back to the bedroom to change.

  


They’re not showered or clean-shaven, but they’re close enough to appropriately clothed in jeans and button downs, jackets showing some semblance of professionalism, that Beaver only holds a disgusted face for a few seconds before motioning for the patrol officers manning the crime scene line to let them through.

Jared rolls his eyes at the officer who eyes him from head to toe, obviously surprised that they’re allowed through, but he’s not going to make excuses for getting just a few hours of sleep when he was pointedly told to stay away.

“Hope you smell clean, ‘cause you don’t look it,” Beaver says when they’re near enough to hear.

“You told us to get lost,” Jared reminds him, voice scratchy from lack of rest.

The Lieutenant leads them along the river, sidestepping crime scene techs everywhere. “You drink the whole bottle?”

“Jensen had half,” Jared replies flatly. He’s tired and suffering a headache, patience not nearly enough to take anything from Beaver other than details on why they’re here.

“Oh, shit,” Jensen mutters, stopping short and staring off to their right.

“Oh, shit’s right,” Beaver says with a sigh.

Jared faces the scene: Ferris shuffles along a body, pointing out areas for a tech to aim his camera before she moves to yet another spot; Benedict drops yellow markers just ten feet away; a bunch of other blue vests are brushing for fingerprints, bagging debris, and snapping more photos than Jared can even imagine wanting to log.

They’re both staring, unable to put words to any feelings or thoughts, struck with the image of a male body littered with bullet holes. It doesn’t fit the M.O., but it’s so right in the moment. They’re staring at Jonathan Price.

“Another body, Ackles,” Morgan says as he steps up. “You got an explanation this time?”

Jared and Jensen both bring their eyes to the senior detective smirking at them. “An explanation for what?” Jensen asks, voice remarkably level.

“For how people you know keep turnin’ up dead.”

Unable to keep his eyes off Morgan, Jared stews, fighting for the right words while trying to convince himself it’s best to keep quiet and let Jensen handle the taunts.

“You didn’t have an alibi before. Magically sleepin’ when the others turn up dead.”

“Right,” Jensen huffs. “Because we don’t already have a suspect.”

“ _You_ have a suspect. And I have mine.”

Jared can’t find Beaver fast enough, barking out a haughty, “Lieu?”

“Morgan, why don’t we-” Beaver starts before Morgan talks over him.

“Where were you Ackles? My people say you didn’t go home last night.”

“Hey,” Jared snaps with a hand up to Morgan’s chest, pushing him back. “Why don’t you lay off?”

“Why don’t he answer?” Morgan asks, barring a sharp smile.

There’s another push and then Morgan’s shoving at Jared, too. Jared doesn’t back down, grits out, “He doesn’t have to answer you.”

Jensen tugs on Jared’s arm, hand tight and hard enough to yank Jared away. He glares at Jared before turning on Morgan with an even harsher look. “It wasn’t me, alright?”

“Then where were you?” Morgan asks, voice surprisingly low.

Long moments tick off until Jensen’s mouth finally opens and he says, “At Jared’s.” It’s remarkably quiet given that they’re outdoors with the bustle of a crime scene being detailed around them. “Passed out around five and he found me on the couch in the morning when we got our Lieutenant’s message.”

“That so?”

Jensen’s eyes narrow on Morgan’s. “Yeah, it is.”

Jared ignores the way Beaver’s eyes cut to him, and then curls his fingers into the back of Jensen’s jacket and draws him back. “Let’s talk to Ferris. Do some work,” he adds with a nasty glance in Morgan’s direction.

No one stops them from moving but he can’t ignore how intent Beaver is in watching them, like the lieutenant’s reading something just below the surface. Seeing something new between them.

Jared has to wonder how in the hell he and Jensen hid anything from anyone in the precinct, then worries how long it’ll be before it’s totally uncovered. Hopefully not before their murderer is.

For once, it’s not the phone that wakes Jared. It’s the swift pounding at his front door. He groans with the effort of rolling out of bed, cursing the clock that tells him he’s gotten little over three hours of sleep. At this point, he’s considering any moment his eyes are closed a nap.

He yanks the door open and just as quickly, Jensen walks through and into the kitchen, muttering on his way. “You know how to answer your phone?”

“I turned it off,” Jared croaks in return as he falls onto the couch, arm slung over his eyes.

“Lotta good that does you,” he calls from the kitchen as he adds extra sugar to his coffee then tests the mix.

“You know how many times it was ringin’?” Jared asks with a whine.

“About five?”

Jared drags his arm away from his face and stares at Jensen leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Jensen’s in plain clothes, his loose polo and undershirt barely obscuring the line of the holster on his hip. Beyond being confused with Jensen showing up in the morning, it’s Jensen’s words that make Jared stall. “Five times,” Jared says dumbly.

“Yeah. That was me.”

“Five times?”

Jensen moves into the room, dropping two cups of coffee on the side table. “Six, actually. But the last went straight to voicemail.”

“Kinda the point of turning the phone off. What’d you want?”

“To work? That sound good to you?”

Jared rolls his eyes, laughing at his partner. “You’re in enough shit with Lieu. You think I’m gonna aid and abet a suspended cop?”

“I’m not,” Jensen huffs, sitting at the edge of the coffee table, knees bumping the edge of the couch. “I’m not suspended. I’m just-“

“Not on the case anymore,” Jared finishes as he gives a tired look. “And I have a fancy new partner that is dying for you to fuck up and get involved. Or more involved, as it were,” he adds on with a twisted smile before again covering his face with crossed arms. “You get involved again, they’ll shove you back into a uniform in no time. Maybe put you on segway duty.”

Jensen sighs, lightly clapping his hands together with obvious nerves. “You’re being overdramatic.”

Jared bitterly chuckles. “And you’re minimizing everything. As always. Go find yourself some juicy case to solve on your own so you can brag about it later.”

“I brought you coffee,” Jensen argues, lightly kicking the sofa.

“Ain’t the only way to my heart.”

There’s another sigh and Jared can imagine Jensen rolling his eyes before he hears the shift of Jensen rising and walking to the windows that overlook the street below, coming to life with the morning rush of pedestrians and cars passing by. “I hear there were smudged prints at Murray’s,” Jensen murmurs as he slides the curtain back a few inches and looks onto the lawn below. “At Chad and Gina’s,” he adds when Jared remains quiet.

Jared shuffles to sit with his feet on the floor and grabs the coffee cup Jensen brought. He’s not wholly comfortable talking about the case with Jensen no longer on it, but there’s four years of loyalty he’s having a hard time ignoring. “Yeah.”

Jensen turns in place, leaning back on the window, hands tight against the ledge. “C’mon. Please?”

Spreading his hands, Jared sighs. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“No, _I can’t._ ”

“So, it’s like that?” Jensen asks quietly but with tension in his voice.

“It’s not like anything,” Jared replies, shaking his head as he moves to the kitchen.

“How close’re you getting to Morgan?”

“Not at all,” Jared laughs at the notion. He's adding a splash of cream to his cup when he hears the door creak; he knows that it’s Jensen opening it.

Jared’s there in seconds, pushing the door closed and Jensen into the wall. “Stop being a dick for two seconds?”

Jensen looks down at Jared’s hand at the center of his chest then drags his eyes up and looks annoyed.

Moving back, Jared lets Jensen go and tilts his head. “Whatever, be an ass. Not like I care.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. You don’t have to be assy about it,” Jensen says quickly with an ugly twist of his mouth.

“You deserve it,” Jared replies as he moves back to the kitchen, doing his best to hide a smile.

Jensen chuckles, drawing Jared’s attention. Just then, Jensen’s phone rings and he answers it with his eyes still on Jared. “Ackles. Homicide.” His eyes dip down for the quickest of moments before he looks at Jared with wide eyes and high brows. “No clue. But if I hear, I’ll let you know.” After a quick goodbye, he snaps the phone shut and coughs out a laugh. “Better get your phone, jackass. Lieu’s looking for you.”

Without a word, Jared marches to his bedroom, crawling across the mattress to snag his phone off the bedside table. He rolls to his side and up on an elbow as he turns the phone back on then listens to his voicemails. _Eight_ of them. The only ones not from Jensen are Morgan and Beaver trying to reach him.

In the doorway, Jensen leans and watches, crossing his arms and tipping his head with a harsh smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t shut off your phone.”

As Jared listens to Morgan berate him with a mocking tone that negates any confidence Jared could have about his role on the case, he mumbles, “Maybe you should kiss my ass.”

Jensen tsks and pulls a cynical face that Jared can’t help but laugh at. “You want a ride in?” Jensen asks.

Jared looks up again and almost winces. “I should meet up with Morgan first.”

“What’s he got?”

“A shit-ton of hostility?”

Jensen laughs. “Besides that?”

“Nothing else,” he mumbles, fingers flying over his phone to reply to a few random emails regarding evidence, ones he knows Benedict will just copy up to Beaver if Jared doesn’t at least acknowledge them. He even fires off a message to Morgan that he’s up and on his way to the 21st.

“Jared, come on,” Jensen prods with a quiet voice, but it’s loud in the room as he closes the space between them. His knee bends against the edge of the mattress and he tucks his hands into his jeans’ pockets as he looks to Jared with a worried expression.

Shifting on the bed to a more comfortable position and to give room for Jensen to sit – even though Jensen doesn’t – Jared puts a hand out between them. “Look, he’s off your back now, right? He’s leaving you alone?”

“Morgan, yeah. But there’s still a car outside my place every night,” Jensen argues. “You let me help, even from the outside, and this shit gets wrapped up real quick.”

“I can’t and you know that. Stop asking me,” Jared replies harsher than he had intended. To relieve the tension, he scoots to the end of the bed, throwing his legs over the side and looking up with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t _do anything_ or else we’ll be marooned on the same island.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, still looks pissed, but he betrays his anger by rubbing a hand over Jared’s hair, doing nothing but mucking up Jared’s bed-head worse than before. “Not such a bad idea.” Jared’s eyebrow goes high and Jensen adds, “All expenses paid vacation? You, me, and a bottle of Captain?”

“Right,” Jared sighs with a small laugh.

“What’s it matter? So long as we’re away from all this bullshit.”

Doing his best to remain neutral, unable to think up the proper response, Jared takes a deep breath and looks down to his hands in his lap.

“We never talked about it,” Jensen mumbles.

He knows exactly what _it_ is, but he still flicks an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Last week.”

Jared claps his hands together, lets them dangle between his legs with his elbows resting on his thighs. “Don’t know what to say.”

Jensen sits beside him, back rigid. “Good or bad?”

“Either?” Jensen sighs and Jared nearly tsks at him. “You said you wanted to talk after the case was done.”

Leaning forward, Jensen mimics Jared’s body, complete with hands wrung together. “Yeah, well, I’m not on the case anymore.”

“Convenient time for you to admit it,” Jared grumbles with an awkward smile. His phone buzzes with a new message from Morgan, short-worded but obvious in his impatience. Jared scratches at his eyebrow. “I gotta go in.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen mumbles. There’s a hesitation as Jensen looks over, slightly leaning in, and then he rises from the bed, smoothing hands over his thighs. “Let me know if you hear anything today?”

“Jen,” he sighs.

“Just. Humor me?”

Flatly, Jared says, “The minute I hear something, I’ll call you.”

  


“About time,” Morgan sighs when Jared enters the makeshift headquarters for their case. It’s a previously empty office that now holds roll-away white boards with various pieces of their case taped up – pictures and maps, written notes on places and times, and other pieces of evidence from each of the murders.

“Morning to you, too,” Jared smirks just before sipping his coffee. “What’d I miss in the six hours since I was last here.”

“It was eight.”

Jared looks at Morgan, who’s throwing a stern glance his way. “Excuse me?”

“It was _eight_ hours since we were all here. You’re not the only one not gettin’ sleep, so don’t think you’re the only one who can come and go as you please.”

Settling against the corner of the empty desk in the corner, Jared twists his mouth sarcastically. “And here I thought we were starting to like one another.”

Morgan steps up to one of the boards, hands on hips, eyes tight to the evidence. “All things considered, this _is_ me likin’ you.”

Jared considers pushing his feet out and crossing them in luxury while he sips his coffee for the rest of the morning, just to spite Morgan. But deep down, no matter how bitter a taste it is to be separated from his partner and work with this detective, he’s not going to jeopardize his career or reputation.

He stands and joins Morgan at the board, eyes raking over too much, too fast; his brain still can’t handle the depth of evidence from these four murders, especially with so little sleep and only two cups of coffee thus far.

Hours later, after combing through files, photos, evidence logs, and interviews, Jared leans back in his chair and sighs.

Morgan is back standing at the boards and flicks at the edge of a photograph showing Chad Murray entering an elevator at Left Bank Apartments, his sister-in-law’s place, two days after her murder. In the shot, someone bumps into him on their way out but the head is blurred with the movement and the angle of the camera never caught the man’s face. Worse yet, management at the building can’t pin the person down as a resident or regular guest.

“Still think there’s something here,” Morgan murmurs. “That cop connection. This is probably him.”

Jared catches how Morgan looks entertained, excited even. “If you say my partner, I swear–”

Morgan nearly grins. “I didn’t say it.”

Rolling his eyes and stifling a sigh, Jared stands and joins him, focusing on the screen caps of the same camera on the night before Louise Cooper was killed. The pictures are conclusive evidence of Chad Murray’s presence and no one else in or out in a two-hour block of time.

A few steps back and Morgan stands in line with Jared, eyes still steady on that one photo. Jared shakes his head and Morgan shoots him a sharp look. “Share with the class, kid.”

The patronizing tone is enough to make him sigh, but Jared’s aiming to play nice to get the whole case over and get back to his own station, where Jensen is his primary coworker. “You don’t think it’s wasting time?” Then before he can help it, Jared carries on, “We know Murray did it. He shot Gina Murray. He shot _my partner_. And he ran off twice. Now he’s gone in the wind. We should be tracking _him_ down, not some random guy who walked off an elevator at 9:30 at night and you seem to think looks just like Jensen.”

“It was _9:39_ ,” he corrects. “Where was your guy?” Before Jared can interrupt, Morgan continues on. “And worst case scenario? We see through every loose end. Best case? We nail an accomplice.”

Jared stares at Morgan, taking in the ecstatic grin and how his eyes are jumpy, and Jared chuckles as his eyes turn back to the boards, raking over photos of Chad Murray. “Really? You think this guy can manage to work with someone else?”

“You think this guy can manage _four murders_ by himself?”

“I’ll believe that before I believe he plays well with others.”

Morgan rolls his eyes then points at the unidentified man. “I’m gonna nail the dirty cop to this. Trust me. And if it’s your partner, I promise I won’t say I told you so.”

“Okay,” Jared drags out as he turns away from the board to calm himself. He combs through a few files atop the nearby desk. “Good luck with that. In the meantime, I’ll work on finding our killer.”

“You seriously don’t think–”

“What I _know_ ,” Jared says, turning back to Morgan, “is that Chad Murray spent two years at an alternative school for social problems.”

“He wet the bed and kill the neighbor’s cat?” Morgan asks with a biting smile. “You suddenly a hot-shot FBI profiler and I miss your promotion?”

“No,” he fires back, the words _you asshole_ on the tip of his tongue. “But he spent a good amount of time in high school ignoring faculty and wrecking cars in parking lots.”

“He works at a gym. Don’t think they employ the socially maligned in big places like that.”

Jared sighs. “He’s not a trainer. He calibrates machines and washes towels. Everyone said he was ‘quiet and on his own.’”

Morgan eyes him for a bit, eyes challenging before turning wary. “Where’d you get all this?”

“Interviews. And his file. I did my research.” Before Morgan can say more, Jared tosses his lukewarm coffee into the trash bin and walks to the door. “You find something better, let me know.”

“Where you going?”

“To do some real work. I’m tired of staring at boards.”

  


“Detective, I already told you,” John Murray sighs even as he lets Jared in the front door. “I haven’t heard from Chad in over a month.”

“I understand,” Jared says with a careful smile. “I just have a few questions.”

“You’ve been here nearly every day for a week. What more could you have to ask?”

“How about a glass of water?”

John stalls for a moment then licks his lips and heads to the kitchen, Jared following with a small smile. “I’ve been half expecting Chad to come calling at some point,” he says, handing a glass to Jared. He leans against the counter as he goes on. “Money, refuge, alibi. But he hasn’t.”

The statement is the most John’s offered up on his brother. He’d been just as unhelpful when it came to Gina Murray’s case, but he at least had an excuse for not being considered a suspect, having been with friends for the evening.

Jared stalls with the water halfway to his mouth. He puts it down then eyes John and asks, “Is this you saying you haven’t helped him?”

“Take it any way you want.”

“Would you help him?”

“No,” John responds immediately.

Jared continues watching, waiting for a tell, a twitch, something that says John Murray’s lying and would happily help family. “You sure about that?”

John sighs, looks down, and shifts his stance. “He’s my little brother, always in trouble. I’m not exactly excited that the cops keep coming here to talk to me about him. I don’t know how much he did or didn’t do, but I stopped being surprised by him ten years ago.”

“He hang around with any cops? Have trouble with them?”

Another sigh, and John shakes his head with annoyance. “I’ve told your partner-”

“He’s not my partner,” Jared interrupts with a rough laugh.

“I told that _other_ detective. I don’t know about anything like that.”

Jared widens his feet and tucks his hands into his pockets, slipping from friendly and curious into downright inquisitive. “There’s history with you and Sophia Price, right?”

John pauses, pursing his lips. “Nothing major. We went out a few times. We were young and impressionable,” he smiles wistfully. “Everything felt bigger than it really was.”

“Your brother have anything to do with her?”

“A crush, sure, but nothing serious.”

“You were there the night she died,” Jared says more than asks. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, seems to be honest. “Sophia and I were winding down and I met Gina that night.” He sighs then tips his head to the side. “But, then that went bad, too. And now they’re both gone.”

“You and Gina were divorced,” Jared points out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I wanted her dead. I still loved her. She was knocked up by some one-night stand and I was helping her out. You think our divorce was that bad?”

Jared knows his face shows surprise at John Murray saying so much, at speaking this long, and answering this many questions.

John waves a hand in the air, assuming Jared’s unspoken question. “I’m tired of having police at my door. Maybe this’ll be enough to keep you away.”

“Just one last question. You think Chad’s doing this on his own?”

With a bitter laugh, John answers, “That kid has always had a lot more enemies than friends.”

“I can imagine,” Jared smiles. “Nothing else on the tip of your tongue? Long-lost memory to share while you’re open to talk?”

John sighs, shaking his head but then looks right at Jared. “When he was last here, he’d just left some crap here and never came back for it. I boxed it up a while ago.”

“Mr. Murray,” Jared starts with an odd look, wondering why John Murray’s finally bringing the box up. “We’ve been asking you for any info for a week.”

“My patience’s worn thin.”

  


As he exits his car and walks past other condo buildings on his way to Jensen’s place, Jared stares at the unmarked sedan parked less than half a block down. The tinted windows can’t hide the two live bodies in the front seat, but there’s enough to block out any specifics for the faces. He takes an extra look over his shoulder to the car just before moving onto Jensen’s building.

As Jensen opens the door, he smirks and moves to the side. “Couldn’t at least bring me some food?”

“Your legs ain’t broke,” Jared says, entering the condo and slipping his jacket off.

“House arrest and all that,” Jensen jokes. He steps up to the balcony and shifts the blinds enough to look down on the car Jared had spotted. “Figured it’s better to just stay in when I don’t gotta be out.”

Jared sits at the arm of the couch and settles his hands on his knees. “Yet you keep showing up at my place for no reason.”

Jensen lets go of the blinds and takes a few steps closer to Jared. “They don’t follow me out in the morning. Just at night.” With a short nod he asks, “What’ve you been up to all day?”

“John Murray says his brother’s got a lot of enemies.”

“Thought he wasn’t talking much?”

“He said a bit more today that I’d expected. And he gave me a box of stuff Chad left behind.”

Jensen’s interest is obvious with the way his eyes widen and his head tips. “What’s in it?”

“Nothing good that I can tell. Some old mail and unpaid parking tickets.”

“Great, get the meter maids on the case,” Jensen snorts, rolling his eyes.

Jared smirks then says, “John went on about Chad from the early days.”

His eyes narrow at the sudden statement and he crosses his arms. “Yeah, and?”

Jared tilts his head to watch Jensen, to catch his response. “Said Chad had more enemies than friends. Yet, he spoke pretty freely with you in that bar.”

“So, he’s stupid and talks too much,” Jensen replies easily as he crosses the room and goes to his fridge. “You want a drink?”

Ignoring Jensen’s attempt to change gears, Jared pushes on. “I don’t understand why he’d shoot you then start telling you all about what he was doing.”

“He didn’t tell me all about what he was doing,” Jensen argues as he hands Jared a tall glass with just an inch or two of scotch. He takes a sip from his own glass then winces, more with his words than at the taste. “Are you questioning me?”

Jared sits up straight and immediately spreads his hands. “What? No. No, I’m not.” He frowns at his glass and takes a sip. He looks right at Jensen. “I just don’t know how to even get a whiff of him. He’s just gone.”

“So why’re you asking why he spilled his guts to me?”

“I didn’t ask that,” Jared points out with a long stare.

“Semantics. You’re so clever,” he replies, rolling his eyes and stepping over Jared’s feet.

Jared reaches for his wrist and tugs to keep him from going too far. “I wasn’t trying to question you. Just thinking out loud.”

Jensen’s frustration is still all too obvious but his voice settles a bit as he stands between Jared’s legs. “I guess that’s better than not talking at all.”

Jared drops Jensen’s arm and takes another sip. When Jensen doesn’t move away, Jared softly clears his throat. “So, you really wanna talk about last week?”

“This is an even worse change of subject.”

“I can go back to questioning you.”

With a short laugh, Jensen brings his glass up to his mouth and drinks. “No, that’s fine. Let’s not do that.”

“So,” Jared starts, shoulders rising with a long breath. He can feel a tremble below his skin from worrying about how to handle this with Jensen. How to handle Jensen, period. “What now?”

“How about we just skip all the talking and go right to the sex? Because that’s all I’m concerned with.” Jared gives Jensen a long look, and Jensen’s eyes fall to his drink, hand swirling it around. “Just an idea.”

“I’m not staying while that car’s outside, so think again.”

“We can be quick.” Jensen lifts an eyebrow. “It’s been a while. Probably wouldn’t take much anyway.”

“Jensen,” he sighs.

“Okay, sorry.” Jensen raises both hands in apology then puts his drink down on the table beside Jared. “Joking over.” Biting into his lips, he looks down on Jared and slowly shifts closer. “So, what do we do?”

“What do you want to do?” Jared asks, voice as level as possible but even he can hear how expectant it is.

With a cynical look, Jensen says, “Thought it was kind of obvious given I even _want_ to talk about it.”

Jared stifles a chuckle then takes a deep breath. He reaches out and holds Jensen’s hip, squeezing lightly with a small smile. When Jensen leans into the touch, Jared runs his hand to Jensen’s back and they both move into each other, Jared closing his eyes and pressing his face into the cotton of Jensen’s tee, feeling the slight push of Jensen’s chest as Jensen takes a hard breath.

Jensen threads fingers through Jared’s hair, first in comfort, then with more pressure until he tugs at the ends to tip Jared’s head back. He leans down and presses their mouths together, immediately opening and sucking on Jared’s lower lip.

Going with it, Jared opens his mouth, meets Jensen’s tongue, and breathes loudly, along with Jensen as their kiss becomes messier and more frantic. Jared feels it building in his chest; the want and need he’d ignored for months bubbling to the surface here, especially in knowing Jensen wants it, too. Jared’s so hung up on that thought that he doesn’t realize what’s happening until Jensen is straddling his thigh, sitting close and ever-so-slowly creating friction between them.

“Jensen, no,” he murmurs.

Jensen settles further against Jared but does at least stop kissing, hands stroking up and down the back of Jared’s neck. “We going slow now?”

“At least until the case is over,” Jared suggests.

“It could be years.”

“It won’t be years,” Jared argues with a huff.

“The rate you’re going, you’ll have ten more bodies and no Chad.” Jensen follows up his barb with a small smile and a soft touch of lips then he slowly licks into Jared’s mouth, continuing on when Jared doesn’t immediately protest.

Jared slides his hands to Jensen’s waist, thumbs pressing into the cut of Jensen’s hips and pushing him back just a little. “I really shouldn’t stay long. Morgan’s lackeys’ll start saying something.”

“Could claim you just crashed on the couch.”

“You actually _did_ crash on my couch, and now Beaver’s looking at us funny.”

“To be fair, he’s always looked at you funny.” Jared punches Jensen in the stomach, but Jensen still laughs. “Speaking of Lieu, you purposely avoiding the station?”

“I’m working with Morgan. No point in me not being at Violent Crimes.”

“I know, just saying.”

“Sayin’ what?” Jared asks with narrowed eyes.

“The 21st isn’t your house.”

Jared smiles, nuzzling along Jensen’s jaw. “And here I thought you just missed the work.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He drops a quick kiss to Jensen’s lips then pulls back, clearly not going further. “I think you do.”

“It’s getting late,” Jensen says as he rises with a small smile. “Either you stay or leave.”

“Put out or get out?” Jared asks, standing as well.

He smirks in return. “Something like that.”

Jared joins Jensen at the door and takes a long look, eyes scrolling across Jensen’s face, which is settled and happy enough that Jared can see it in Jensen’s eyes. He suddenly realizes that he’s missed this easiness between them, and he leans in for a kiss, tongues rolling together for just a few moments before he pulls back.

  


“Oh, you decided to come into work,” Tal calls out from down the hall as Jared heads to Homicide.

He pulls up short and tips his head, grinning at her. “I’m _always_ on the clock, Lon.”

She meets him at the end of the hall and heads the way he’d been going, arms full of files. “Haven’t seen you around these parts in a damn long time.”

As they walk on, he pushes his hand out to free his wrist from his jacket and checks his watch. “It’s only been about three days. You miss me, don’t ya?”

“Something like that.”

“Something just like that. I know how it is. Pining after Homicide’s All Star.”

She tsks as they enter the bullpen with a slew of desks ahead of them, some filled but most not. “Not quite. I hear you’ve been up to no good. Surprised you’d bother showin’ your mug around these parts.”

“Gotta remind you all what a good guy looks like.”

They both stop at Jensen’s desk, and Jensen looks between the two, seeming confused then a bit bored. “What? You finally decide to come into work?” he asks Jared.

“I’m nothing if not punctual.”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you don’t seem to know much in the way of words,” Tal says. “Punctual my ass.” She drops the files on Jensen’s desk and smiles at him. “Just like you asked.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jensen responds.

Jared moves to the far side of his desk and tugs a drawer open to drop his gun and badge into then sits down. Both he and Jensen watch Tal walk away then Jared faces Jensen. He nods at the folders she’d brought over. “Got a new case?”

“Yeah. What’re you doing here?” Jensen asks quickly.

While watching Jensen, Jared flicks his monitor on. “You’re the one who’s been asking when I’m gonna show up. I’m here and you’re questioning it.”

“And you’re the one all about playin’ nice in Morgan’s backyard.”

Jared turns to the screen to log in and starts clicking through some of his notes from early on in the case. “Can you believe he doesn’t have a tire swing? That place sucks.”

Jensen leans forward on his desk as if he’s trying to look at the screen. “What’re you looking for?”

“Something.”

“Something?” Jensen asks with an eyebrow up high.

“Anything? I dunno, I got a thing off a thing,” he says distractedly, hoping Jensen won’t ask further.

Truth be told, he’d found a handful of letters in the box John Murray handed over. All addressed to Chad Murray, all with an address he’d never seen before, and he’s been struggling to tie it to anything. Here, he’s trying to match the address to anything in their system, not wanting to do so with Morgan standing over his shoulder.

“A thing. That’s succinct.”

“I try,” Jared smirks in return. He taps through the commands and watches a dozen or so citations fill his search window. One is tied to an address from a Confidential Informant. Jared clicks through, going deeper, and can’t find much more than that. No CI name nor a detective tied to it.

“Padalecki!” Beaver barks as he enters the room. “What’re you doing here?”

Jared smiles up to their Lieutenant suddenly standing at the edge of their desk. “Detective work.”

Beaver rolls his eyes then glances between Jared and Jensen. “My office. Now,” he says, short and terse, and walks right to it.

They both rise and follow but when Beaver reaches his door, he stops and looks over Jared’s shoulder. “Just Padalecki.”

Jared turns enough to see Jensen’s confusion and how he slowly backs off. Barely inside the door, Jared makes the effort to find Jensen back at his desk while still giving Beaver his attention. “Everything okay?”

“Door.”

“What?”

“Shut the door,” Beaver spits out as he sits behind his desk. He waits for Jared to do so and take a chair across from him. The Lieutenant tilts his head and his mouth twists up. “What were you doin’ at Jensen’s last night?”

He starts at the use of Jensen’s first name, so rarely used around the station, and then he absolutely stalls at the question itself. Shifting in his seat, Jared tries for the easiest smile ever, even when he knows it’s a bad one and there’s no way a Lieutenant, one with as many years as Beaver has, is fooled by it. “Checking in on him.”

“For what?”

Jared leans a bit to the left, the direct eye contact and brusque tone unnerving him. “Well, with him being my partner and all. And now being an outcast. I was just seeing how he was doing.”

“You sharing anything with him on the case?”

“No,” he replies, lengthening the word to a few too many syllables.

With a narrowed look, Beaver’s eyes lock onto Jared’s. “He’s off this case for a reason. Blurring of the lines and all that.”

Jared doesn’t think to respond to that; he huffs and looks away. “Morgan told you I was there? He’s still got his petty war going on with that car in front of Jensen’s, and now he’s trying to get me in the middle of it?”

“Ackles is on desk duty with good reason,” Beaver bellows, ignoring Jared’s questions – or complaints, really.

“And why’s that?” Jared asks, realizing he’d never heard a clear motive behind the action.

“The one suspect, that _we can’t find_ , shot at him. You need another reason?”

“Not exactly,” Jared mumbles.

Beaver slides his elbows onto the desk, back hunching over and finger pointing straight at Jared. “I don’t know what the hell's going on between you two, but I’d almost rather you go back to fightin’ and ignorin’ one another than this playing nice bullshit.”

Steeling his face and voice as best he can, Jared looks right at his boss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I hear one word of you lettin’ Ackles get up to anything with this case, it’s your ass.”

His mouth pops open with a retort working its way up and out of his mouth but Beaver tips his head just so and Jared shuts himself up.

“Consider yourself warned,” Beaver snaps before turning his chair to the side and flipping through a folder.

Jared considers himself excused and goes back to his desk without a word or glance back to the Lieutenant’s office. He clicks through the search program to print out the details that have piled up in his absence, figuring he’ll look through the CI incident reports on his own, away from Beaver and Jensen, just to save himself the trouble.

“What’s up?” Jensen asks quietly.

With a quick look up, Jared shakes his head. He knows Jensen’s staring at him, knows Jensen’s going to ask more any minute. He just finishes up the print job, gets up to grab it from the printer, and leaves.

  


“What d’you remember about Murray?”

“Which one?” Jensen asks just before biting into a steak sandwich, head down but eyes to Jared.

“Chad.”

After some chewing and nodding, Jensen takes a healthy sip of pop. “This an interrogation?”

“Witness interview,” Jared amends before he bites into his own sandwich.

“I’m a witness,” Jensen grins. “I kinda like this side of the table.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Jensen shakes his head as Jared reaches across the table and snags fries off his plate. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Witness for the here and now.”

“No, I mean, _really_ , do you have to eat my food?”

Jared shrugs. “Their fries’re good.”

Jensen puts his sandwich down to his plate and his elbows to the table. “You called me, said you had something on the case to discuss. I believe you even offered to pay. And now you’re gonna eat my food?”

As he sips at his drink, straw tight in the corner of his mouth, Jared smirks, liking the ease of their banter here. The tension isn’t so thick; it’s underlying and unavoidable, but at least they can manage to eat and talk with relative peace when it’s not entirely relative to the case or each other.

In a way, he’s grateful Beaver took Jensen off the case, though he’s not entirely comfortable with the warning he’d received earlier in the day. He’s not so sure this conversation isn’t a breach of some sort, but he’s certain he needs some background here.

Rolling his eyes, Jensen tugs his basket of food closer to his side of the table then picks the sandwich up again. “What do you wanna know about him?”

“Files say he spent some time at an alternative school? That sound familiar?”

Nodding, Jensen chews quickly to speak. “Yeah, freshman and sophomore year. Came back a bigger mess than before. But quiet, too.”

“He have a lot of friends? Besides you guys?”

“We weren’t really friends anyway. I only knew him by name until college when he and Sophia had classes together. Why?”

Jared ignores the question and asks, “So, would you say he has much of a pack mentality?”

“Loner for sure, but I could see him reacting if threatened,” Jensen replies, putting his sandwich down and eying Jared. “What’s up?”

“Just tryin’ to prove Morgan wrong,” he says, voice light and smile cocky.

Jensen laughs. “Well, anything I can do to help that cause, you let me know.” Between bites, he casually asks, “You get anything new today?”

Jared chews through the final bites of his meal then leans back in the booth, arm slung over the top of his bench. “I’ve been talking to coworkers and neighbors. Collins and Harris are still scoping out a few of Murray’s haunts. No one’s seen an inch of him for a few days.”

“What’s Morgan got to say about it?”

He takes a deep breath. “Not much. Claims some of his CIs have seen him around, so Murray hasn’t skipped town altogether.”

“The informants may not be all that reliable. Depending on the relationship.”

Jared considers Jensen’s words and how quickly they’d come out. “Why do you say that?”

Jensen looks up, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “Happens with CIs. Especially in this town.”

He takes more time to survey Jensen and especially checks his eyes when he glances up.

“What do you know about Price?” Jensen asks quietly.

The voice sounds near nonchalant, but Jensen fidgets enough that Jared knows Jensen’s not only changing the subject but digging for info. Jared’s spent the last week combing through Price’s office when he’s not tracking Murray. Miraculously, he’s been able to keep the two sides separate, and he knows he’s nowhere near close to figuring either end out.

Jared almost can’t find it in himself to respond. “Nothing you can’t find on your own.”

Even with his head down to eat more of his sandwich, Jensen’s eyes shoot up to Jared’s, guilty and awkward before he shuts his eyes and bites. Through his chewing, he looks up and out across the restaurant.

“What?” Jared asks.

“Haven’t had much time to look into it.”

Jared stares, still waiting for more to come because he can tell Jensen’s not up for admitting to being stuck to his desk. “And?”

“And I can’t get into Evidence.”

“Alona brought you files this morning.”

Jensen looks wholly unimpressed. “For something else.”

“So?”

“So that’s why I’m like this,” Jensen says, boredom in his voice as he motions at himself. For the second day in row, he’s plain-clothed with jeans and a casual, collared shirt.

“So, you’re on vacation?” Jared jokes.

“No, it’s not vacation.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jared takes a long moment to watch Jensen. “Why can’t you get into Evidence?”

Jensen tosses his wadded up napkin into the food basket then leans back. “Beaver’s worried I’ll mess up your files.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Jared asks, curiosity barely covering up his sarcasm.

“Because I may have snooped through your files.”

Jared pushes his basket across the table, knocking it into Jensen’s garbage, finally feeling the real weight of Beaver’s words in his office. He’s partly joking, but there’s bitterness in his words. “You’re an asshole. You gonna mess up my shit, too? How selfish are you?”

“It was, like, two files,” Jensen argues quickly. “I was just double checking a few things.”

“You take anything?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“You sure?”

“Fuck you, no,” Jensen shoots back. “I want the case solved. I’m not gonna fuck with it.”

“Beaver’s pissed about it.”

After a long look, Jensen sighs. “That’s what was up in his office?”

“Yeah, because you’re dipping your fingers where they don’t belong.”

“I’m just trying to help,” he snaps. “Christ, you act like I’m hiding shit.”

Jared spreads his hands. “Yeah, well. You kinda have a history of it.”

Jensen rolls his eyes with a smart smile. “Need I remind you who it was that jumped in front of a bullet?” he asks with a smug look.

“More like you fell on it.”

“And nearly jumped into the river to follow our suspect,” Jensen continues, ignoring Jared.

“You mean attempted suicide?” Jared asks with a cynical laugh. “Such a hero.”

“What’s the stuff with Murray about?”

Jared stalls with the abrupt subject change, and not for the first time, and likely not the last, he fights the want to share more detail with Jensen than would be appropriate. “Just wondering how much of a loner he is. Trying to figure out where he could be hiding.”

“You think he’s still in the City?”

“ _I_ do,” Jared says then curses himself for admitting to it. With a light air, he adds on, “Some would disagree.” Jensen nods as he fiddles with the straw in his pop. “What do you think?” Jared asks hesitantly. “Based on your history with him?”

His eyebrows flick up before he meets Jared’s eyes. “Anything’s possible with him.”

“As a detective?”

Jensen’s mouth curves just a fraction of an inch. “See. You want me to be there with you. Out on the front lines. Like the good ol’ days.”

“Oh, my God,” Jared laughs harshly. “You’re so desperate.”

Scooting forward in the seat, Jensen puts his hands out, palms flat at the middle of the table. “Let me help. C’mon.”

“I can’t.”

“You just asked me, ‘as a detective,’ so you’re obviously dying for me to be in there with you.”

“You’re my partner,” Jared says with an unsteady chuckle. “Of course I want you doing this with me. You think I wanna be working with Morgan?”

“Then why the hell are we playing this game where you ask me for information then you push me away.”

Jared’s ready to answer, but he bites off the comment, licking his lip, leaning back in his seat, and forming a fist at the top of the table.

“Jared, c’mon.” Jensen covers Jared’s hand, and Jared chances his thumb to rub over Jensen’s finger but then abruptly stops and pulls his hand away. Briefly closing his eyes, Jensen grimaces. “Jay, you let me help and we finish this thing up and go back to normal.”

“What’s normal?” Jared asks, looking away. “Beaver knows there’s something going on. He’s gonna split us up.”

“He say that?”

“No, but it’s the only logical thing.” He’s unsettled for thinking it, let alone saying it. The nerves that run through him make him even more tense and he sits up to gather his garbage. “I’ve got a few things to look into.

“Like what?”

Jared stares at him, unable to voice the fact that he’s spent most of the day tracking down the leads he’s gathered from this morning’s search. No one can be found at that address, but he’s been following a string of names that’ve moved out of the residence in the last few years.

He can’t bear to share that information no matter how much he’s dying to tell Jensen.

Standing, Jared grabs his mess and gives Jensen a tired look. “Just stop looking into it, okay?”

“Jay,” Jensen murmurs.

He moves away, but Jensen gets up with his own trash and follows him to the garbage bins. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Come by later,” Jensen suggests. “I won’t ask about it, I promise. But stop by.”

“Morgan’s guys saw me last night. I can’t.”

With a strain to his voice Jared’s never heard, Jensen groans. “I’m dyin’ here. Being out of the loop on something I’m tied to.”

“That’s exactly _why_ you’re out of the loop,” Jared replies quietly and leaves.

  


Following a good twenty minutes of milling around the entrance along the river, Jared spots the writers and approaches them just before they head towards Michigan Avenue.

Wester and Buckley stop short and both narrow their eyes before Wester speaks. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” He pauses for a moment, thinking it through, and adds, “Or over. Over the river.”

Jared rolls his eyes and waves him off. “I don’t have time for this, guys.”

Buckley steps forward, eying Jared. “What _do_ you have time for?”

“Last week, you said you had dirt on Price.”

“Yeah?”

Pushing his hands into his pants pocket, Jared feels his nerves amp up, wanting anything but to ask, “What kind of dirt?”

“Well, now. That depends.”

Wester slides in close. “What’ve you got in exchange?”

Less than a foot separates them all, and while Jared feels awkward with the lack of personal space, he leans in even more. His voice drops and he cruelly smiles as he repeats, “Well, now, that depends as well.”

Buckley turns each way, judging the proximity of anyone else in the area. “We may have intel on some _lascivious_ activities with a lover.”

“The one who got him tied up with law enforcement,” Wester smirks.

“Photos and schedules of their _appointments_ ,” Buckley grins. “What could possibly top that?”

“Confirmation of the police involved,” Jared baits. When Buckley and Wester snap to attention, Jared rolls his shoulders and smirks. “Possibly. Maybe.”

“We have pictures,” Wester says quickly, then flinches when Buckley smacks his arm.

“Shut up, you canary.”

Jared grins at them and nods. “So, we thinking the same thing here? Trade info?”

“What’ve you got that we don’t?” Buckley asks.

“Well, I’ll need something to get me in the door,” Jared says with a long look, purposely drawing out the moment to reel them in. “I could trade a name for photos.”

“You know his name?”

Jared’s eyes widen. “ _His_ name?”

Wester smirks. “What? Like this is the first time a politician kept a boy?”

  


At the top of the landing, Jared finds Jensen sitting on the floor with his back against the door to Jared’s apartment. It’s the first they’ve seen or talked to one another since Jared left Jensen at Philly Steak, and Jared’s not sure he’s exactly happy to see him.

“How goes things?” Jensen asks with a small smile.

Jared stays quiet and undoes two deadbolts and the doorknob before pushing himself through.

“Okay, so, I know we’re kinda fighting,” Jensen says quickly as he hauls himself up to his feet and follows Jared in and through the apartment. “But it’s not like it’s my fault. You’re the one who was assy yesterday and walked right outta the restaurant.” He keeps rattling on with a smile as they both enter Jared’s bedroom, Jared undressing without a look in Jensen’s direction. “Asking me out to dinner and then you bail before the good stuff? You can’t fault me for not coming by last night.”

“Can you stop talking?” Jared grumbles as he yanks his tie off and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Jensen sidesteps a mess of clothes to cross the room, leaning against the edge of the closet that Jared’s standing in front of. “I can do something else,” he suggests with a sly smile. “I can forgive you for yesterday.”

Jared licks his lip and glares at Jensen. When Jensen doesn’t seem so cocky, Jared’s look eases up and he takes a long breath. “You know Price was having an affair?”

Readjusting his stance, Jensen seems confused then steels his face. “I’m not wholly unsurprised.”

“With Chad Murray.”

“Well, now I am.”

Jared steps into his closet and takes off his suit shirt and undershirt before pulling on a faded college tee. “Because it’s a guy?”

“No,” Jensen bristles. He looks far more confused that Jared had expected. “Because it’s _Chad Murray._

There’s a tiny release of stress as Jared chuckles and moves into the closet for jeans.

“So, Price was gay.” Jensen works out slowly.

“You’d know more than I would.”

Jensen shrugs. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He leans heavily against the doorway. “Is there something you _should_ say?”

Biting on his lip, Jensen steps forward, hands immediately rubbing at Jared’s shoulders, fingers digging in. “This guy I know, he goes to a counselor every week, every Monday. Says he’s having crazy dreams about a teepee. Then a wigwam. Then a teepee. What the hell is that about?”

Jared begins to relax under the steady flow of Jensen’s low voice and the pressure of Jensen’s fingers in his muscles. He hums lightly.

“Counselor tells him to stop being a dumbass. He’s two tents.” Jared rolls his eyes and tries to move away, but Jensen’s hands clamp down and shake him slightly. “You’re too tense.”

“Four months now,” Jared mumbles, eyes slipping shut. “Been doing this shit for four months.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jared doesn’t bother changing his pants and focuses on getting to the bed and falling face first into the mattress. He shuffles further up to settle into a pillow and breathes deep. When Jensen sits astride Jared’s hips and starts massaging, hands rough across his shoulder blades, Jared lets himself relax. He turns his head to rest on folded arms, and he can see Jensen from the corner of his eye. “It’s harder doing all this on my own,” Jared admits.

“What about Morgan?” Jensen asks as he works over Jared, massaging down to his lower back.

“Right,” he chuckles darkly.

With a smile in his words, Jensen replies, “You miss me. That’s adorable.”

Jared shifts enough to get an arm under his chest and prop himself up to look over his shoulder. Jensen seems amused, relaxed, too. It’s a new look for him of the past few months, but Jared’s reminded of how easy it was for them in the beginning. When they first meshed, first stumbled together, and first became something to each other. He starts to wonder at what point exactly it was that Jensen stopped being open and cool when it came to them, because it’s been a long, damn time since they were. Even before this case showed up on their doorstep.

Jensen’s hands stretch along Jared’s back, easing up their pressure and smoothing small circles against the shirt. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Are you?”

With the tip of his head, Jensen’s hands stop, fingers pressing through the cotton of Jared’s tee and transferring heat to Jared’s skin.

Jared can’t help but pinpoint the outline of Jensen’s hand. Especially when it spins slowly as Jensen lifts off Jared’s back and kneels beside him on the bed. He settles back on his haunches and his face scrunches up in confusion. Jared turns to his side, legs crossed at the knees, as he takes a quick breath. “I’m fine,” Jared murmurs.

“Why’re you askin’ if I’m okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with a small shake of his head. He rubs his thumb over his eye and chuckles to himself. “Stupid thing. You just seem different.”

Jensen’s face steels up quickly. “Different how?”

“Like old times?” he asks with an awkward smile. Jensen’s head tilts further, still confused and leery, but it doesn’t stop Jared. He reaches for Jensen’s elbow, soft but sure when he pulls him forward, murmuring, “It’s a good thing.”

“Really?” Jensen asks quietly, even as he goes to Jared.

Jared’s hand presses at Jensen’s back, bringing him down and close, keeping him right there as he kisses Jensen, tongue slipping easily into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen goes with it, settling next to Jared, hand slipping over Jared’s hip in slow movements. As they carry on and shift into each other, Jensen slips his hand forward to cup Jared through his pants, and when Jared twitches with the touch, Jensen squeezes his hand, groping through two layers but most definitely getting Jared going.

Shoving up to his elbow, Jared reaches for Jensen’s belt. A low hum sounds in Jensen’s mouth as he slips his hand under the back of Jared’s shirt and cants his hips when Jared’s fingers work at the belt, unlatching it to the get to the button of his jeans.

Jensen stops the kiss and presses his head into Jared’s, eyes solid on Jared’s hands unraveling his jeans and pushing his hand in along his hip to nudge the fabric down. They’re both breathing heavy now, both watching Jared undress him. What makes the entire moment heavy is their lack of words.

Jared feels a distinct pressure in his chest and his brain tells him to slow down, to stop, but there’s a corner of him that wants to take this here. It’s been so long of them dancing around each other, avoiding one another, and here they’re both willing.

The forward movement of Jensen’s body brings their hips together in a long, slow drag, denim and cotton getting in the way of anything good yet tempting Jared just enough. Jensen slinks his hands under the hem of Jared’s shirt, drawing it up and off, tossing it across the room. The feel of Jensen’s warm body even closer to his, only Jensen’s shirt in the way now, tips Jared into dangerous, wanting territory. He leads Jensen to his stomach and tugs the jeans and underwear down to Jensen’s ankles, and Jensen’s efforts to kick his shoes off lead to him toeing the rest of the clothes down and off. Jared slips Jensen’s t-shirt up to his shoulders, mouthing and tasting the pale skin before leaning up to the nightstand and retrieving lube.

As Jared coats his fingers, Jensen drags his shirt over his head then buries his face in the covers, rough breathing pushing his chest off the mattress and forcing his shoulders up. Jared grabs hold of Jensen’s shoulder with his dry hand, squeezing with care.

“Okay?” Jared murmurs.

Jensen turns his head, chin rubbing at his shoulder and eyes barely making their way to Jared. He nods and closes his eyes, tucking his face back down but allowing Jared the profile.

Jared has to stop and watch how Jensen’s body tenses without even being touched, how his shoulders twitch but Jensen doesn’t make an effort to stop them. Slowly, Jared straddles Jensen’s thighs and spreads his cheeks just before dragging the tip of his finger over Jensen’s hole. They both shudder at the touch but Jared keeps going, pushing in to the first knuckle then draws it out only to press right back in, drawing out the movements long enough for Jared to relearn the feel of Jensen’s body.

“Can you go any slower?” Jensen mumbles, forehead pressed into the bed and making his back bow gorgeously. Jared can’t help but run his hand over the smooth angles of Jensen’s shoulder blades, of his spine, right down to the valley of his lower back just before the rise of his ass.

And for all that Jared had been going slow, the ache of his dick growing harder is all too much to take, so he starts fingering faster, more earnestly, to open Jensen up.

Jensen’s hips rise off the bed, ass pushing back to Jared’s hand as his breathing gets louder and more uneven.

“How’s that?” Jared rasps out, dying with the feeling of his slick fingers sliding so easily with Jensen’s movements.

“Good,” he huffs back. “Real good.”

Jared palms Jensen’s ass, squeezing and groping as his breath catches. “Been a while,” he murmurs.

“It’s gonna be another long while at this rate.”

He chuckles, hearing the smirk in Jensen’s voice, and he has to withdraw, has to take the time to calm himself and undress and get himself ready for this, physically _and_ emotionally.

After the condom and more lube, he sits across Jensen’s thigh, one knee nudging Jensen’s leg far from the other. He holds Jensen to the bed with strong hands bracketing his hips and then he lines up, pressing in at a slow but steady rate. With the weight of Jared’s body, Jensen struggles to meet Jared’s rhythm, but then he hitches his leg up high to open up wider, and Jared goes faster, fluidly rolling his hips down.

He keeps going with the blessed slide of his dick in and out, with the grip of Jensen’s body on him, so warm and slick and a welcome memory. His hands are solid on Jensen’s back, grasping and yet holding down, until Jensen is struggling against him with hands into the mattress and trying to force himself up.

“C’mon, Jay,” Jensen groans. “I wanna… need to.”

“Need to what?” Jared pants as he rocks forward, rocks Jensen into the mattress yet again, unable to stop moving into Jensen.

Jensen twists enough to get his hips off the bed and it drags moans from them both, and then Jensen’s breathing is harsh. “Let me up… so we can...”

He releases him, letting him up to his knees and then they’re rocking together. Jared plasters himself across Jensen’s back, arms winding under Jensen’s chest while their shoulders press down and their hips move in tandem: Jensen back onto Jared and Jared right into him.

The angle forces Jared to lean more heavily on Jensen and gives Jensen more control, but Jared can’t help but love it. To be skin to skin, so tight, with him, and to simultaneously fuck and be used for a fuck. Jared’s blood pumps faster and with more intent into his groin, and he feels his balls drawing up quickly.

He hums against Jensen’s shoulder, mouths at the turn of skin and bone, and breathes fast with how his orgasm builds, how it begins to overtake him before he’s fully aware that it’s about it happen. Jensen grabs his hands, fingers scrabbling around his as his back pushes out and into Jared, as he pushes himself faster onto Jared’s dick.

And then it hits Jared, he crumbles from the inside out as he comes, body becoming a shaky, dead weight with the force of it.

Jensen fists himself at a sure, steady rate, and all Jared can do is reach down and between his legs to cup Jensen’s balls and slowly rock with Jensen. Jensen mumbles _oh God, oh fuck_ over and over as he moves, as Jared wraps his other arm across Jensen’s chest to hold him tight, and then Jensen comes.

They collapse to the bed and Jared manages to pull himself away, rolling to his back, his chest heaving with the fall back to earth. He fumbles to discard the condom thanks to his unfocused eyes and sluggish brain.

He’s so out of it that Jensen shifting makes him flinch, especially when he speaks. “God, it really has been a while.” It’s said softly as Jensen rises to his elbows before crawling over Jared’s chest to kiss Jared. Just a careful, easy slide of their mouths together, Jensen’s puckering to suck at Jared’s lips but not forcing anything more than that.

Jared’s hand slips over the back of Jensen’s head to keep him there, even while they’re not kissing and Jensen drops his cheek down to Jared’s shoulder. It’s comforting, for sure, but it also feels all too much and like Jared shouldn’t question the moment. To be this close to Jensen, it’s all surreal given the last few months.

Suddenly, Jared laughs to himself, snorting through it.

“Hmm?” Jensen asks, burrowing a little closer.

“I was beginning to wonder when you got soft and cuddled. But now I see you’re just avoiding the wet spot.”

Jensen’s voice is rough with exhaustion but also tinged with humor. “That, and apologies for once again ruining your dry streak in a case.”

“Pretty sure that’s beyond saving.”

He chuckles deep in his chest so it rumbles against Jared. And while there’s not another word said before they fall asleep, Jared considers it to mean much more than they could begin to communicate.

Jumping out of his car, Jared keeps an eye on the people around him. A few random pedestrians, a couple high school kids hanging on the stoop of a house on the other side of the street, and a man who crosses under a streetlamp that illuminates blond hair.

Jared stops immediately.

“Can’t be this easy,” he mumbles to himself with a tiny laugh as he scoots behinds a conversion van and pulls his phone out. It’s taken nearly 48 hours to follow the trail of people attached to an old address Chad Murray held three years ago. But here it is, the end of the line.

It takes a few moments for Jared to figure out where apartment 409 could be. Easier yet, lights flicker on inside a top-floor apartment and Chad walks in front of the window before snagging the drapes shut.

Just a few harsh breaths separate the moment from Jared putting a call through to Morgan. It hits voicemail but half a minute later, Morgan’s calling him back. Jared instantly rattles off, “I got Murray at 7944 South Paulina. Fourth floor apartment.”

“What d’you mean you got him?” Morgan asks, hushed and confused.

“7944 Paulina. Apartment 409, Natalie Sedore.” When he sees three shadows, he sucks in a breath. “A man and woman are also in the apartment.”

“You know he’s there?”

Jared chuckles harshly, dragging his eyes across the site to take in the three segments of the apartment complex and the doors that lead in. “I saw him. You comin’ or what?”

“Be there in ten. Hold outside.”

“I’m going in five.”

“Pada-” Morgan groans before Jared ends the call.

He waits the ten minutes, but Morgan’s not there yet and there’re no obvious noises in racing squads or sirens.

Then he sees it: shadows at the front window, huddled together, fighting and shoving, and one body is shoved into the picture window. It’s hard enough to break, the crack of the glass threatening to shatter pierces the air.

Jared runs to the main door, but it’s locked for security and he chances the bell for apartment 410. When its resident comes through the speakerbox, Jared comes up with the first lie he can manage.

“Floral delivery.” Then he runs his finger along the nameplate and adds, “For Ms. Blair?”

The woman oddly replies, “Okay. Be right down.”

Jared moves off the stoop and looks back up to 409, with its curtains closed but light still on, showing random shadows when Chad, another man, and, presumably, Natalie Sedore step near the window. He’s so busy watching that the door opening startles him, which also scares the young woman he’d just promised flowers to.

With his eyes up to the fourth floor, he pulls the edge of his jacket back to show his badge and steps forward, slow enough to not further alarm her. “If you don’t mind, ma’am. I need to get inside.”

She moves back inside, flush to the wall with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asks in a high, frantic voice.

“Nothing at all,” he mumbles, drawing his gun from his back holster and starting up the stairs. She’s following behind him, so he tries in the most level of voices, “Head back into your apartment and keep the door closed,” before rushing up the stairs as quietly as possible.

When he reaches 409, he stays against the wall, out of sight from the peephole, and then raps knuckles at the center of the door.

There’s a long silence before a woman asks from the other side, “Yeah?”

“Natalie Sedore?”

“Yeah.”

Jared shuts his eyes long enough for a quick prayer. “Delivery for Natalie Sedore.” There’s the murmur of a TV from within the apartment, and Jared does his best to filter it out and pick up any other noises. He hears careful footsteps and low voices. He knocks again. “Ms. Sedore?”

The door creaks open two inches, and it’s a caramel-skinned woman, early 30s, in the small opening. “Can I see some ID?”

As he reaches for his wallet, intent on flashing his driver’s license, gym membership, anything benign, he keeps his gaze just beyond her and into the apartment, trying to spot Chad Murray. There’s the sharp noise of something being knocked over then someone runs through the living room, just a flash of clothes. Natalie Sedore tries to close the door on Jared but he shoves his foot into the opening and in a quick movement, he gets his badge out, barking, “Police, outta the way.”

She runs off to the right but he can see how she keeps looking left as another body rushes into the back part of the apartment before shutting herself off in a bedroom.

Jared pushes himself against the edge of the hallway, back straight to the wall, and slides slowly to the corner to sneak a peek. He sees the very tip of a blond head then the black barrel of a gun. A split second later, the gun’s fired and Jared folds himself down to avoid the bullet piercing through the plaster wall.

“Murray!” Jared shouts. “You’re shooting at Chicago P.D.”

“Yeah, I know!” Murray yells back. “You think I trust any of you dicks?”

“Put your gun down!”

“You got a gun, too. You’re gonna shoot me.”

Readjusting his crouch, Jared gets a knee down so he can slink closer to the hallway. Murray’s at the end of the hall, shoulder and head sticking out just enough to be seen. “I’m not gonna shoot you, Chad,” he calls out. “But I got other people comin’ who ain’t gonna see this situation all too well.”

When Murray doesn’t answer, Jared creeps to the wall and looks again. Murray’s further into the hallway, arm stretched forward, and gun aimed low. He fires and Jared flinches back, more plaster splitting from the wall.

The still-open front door swings wide open and smacks the wall. Morgan slides into the room, gun drawn. “What the hell you doin’?” he snaps at Jared.

Taking a deep breath, Jared trains his ears on the kitchen, praying Murray doesn’t leave with the distraction. “Girl’s in the bedroom. Murray’s in back,” he says, motioning towards the hallway.

Morgan looks beyond Jared, nods, and then slips to the right, onto the bedroom where Natalie Sedore’s been hiding.

When Jared turns back, Chad’s out of sight and Jared hears the scrape of a screen door being shoved open.

Jared runs down the hallway, making the backdoor just after the screen snaps shut. He pushes it open and takes the winding back stairs, following Murray down. Murray reaches the back alleyway two stories faster than Jared, and by the time Jared hits concrete, Murray’s already rounding the corner and running onto the street. Jared races to catch up and flashes the tiniest of glances to his surroundings.

With his eyes trained on Murray, he runs into the street and right into a moving car. He’s tossed up the hood and into the windshield, hands and face tight to the glass. The shock and pain hit him immediately all while his brain knows to get up and run. As he struggles upright, he looks through the window and sees Jensen on the other side of it, reaching across the front seat to shove the passenger door open.

“Get in!”

Closing his eyes, he rolls to the side and can’t even process the right form of _What the fuck?_ Instead, he stumbles to the street and into the car. Once he has the door shut, he does his best to sit comfortably in the seat and grumbles, “You fuckin’ hit me.”

Jensen punches the gas pedal down, peeling down the street to follow Murray. “Your mom never teach you to look both ways before crossin’ the street?”

“If you’re smiling, I’m gonna smack your damn face.” Jared grimaces at Jensen’s chuckle and at the pain spreading across his back, shooting over his hip.

“You okay?” Jensen asks with a quick look as he takes a sharp turn to follow where he Chad had gone.

Jared props himself up in the seat to keep weight off his side and account for the way the car swings back and forth with Jensen’s speeding and quick turns. “What the hell’re you doing here?”

“Helping?”

Trying to work his phone out and ignore the throbbing in his hand from throwing it into the windshield just a minute ago, he snaps, “You been following me?”

“No.”

“Then why’re you here?” Jared asks as he brings up Morgan’s name and connects the call.

“You think you get to have all the fun?”

Instead of answering Jensen, Jared barks at Morgan, “He’s heading south on Paulina, a few blocks ahead of us.”

There’s a small, haughty chuckle. “Ten seconds too late, kid. We already got him.”

Jared drops his head back to the seat and shuts his eyes. “Thank God.”

Morgan chuckles again. “Oughta work on your speed.”

“Yeah, alright,” Jared grumbles back. “He alive?”

“Relatively so. May’ve tripped along the way.”

Jared sighs, thankful enough that they finally have Murray that he can’t care that Morgan’s likely roughed him up quite a bit.

After a few moments, Morgan asks, “Who’s us?”

“I’ll meet you there,” he says and ends the call, resting his hand and phone in his lap. “We’re dead meat.”

“Why?” Jensen asks

“I said _us_. Said Murray was ahead of _us_.” Jared takes a deep breath and pulls himself up in the seat. “Morgan’s got him and they’re heading to the 21st.”

Despite news that the chase is over, Jensen doesn’t slow the car down. He flips his lights and siren and speeds through the next stoplight.

When the car takes a left instead of a right, Jared begins to take notice of their surroundings. “Where’re you going?”

“Hospital.”

“What for?”

Slowly, and with a distinct tone of cynicism, Jensen points out, “You were hit by a car.”

“ _You_ hit me with _your_ car,” Jared returns.

“Same difference.”

Jared shifts in his seat to face Jensen, doing his best to hide every shock of pain by pushing his voice out, getting loud and rough. “You don’t take me to the 21st right now, Morgan’ll be on our asses.”

“Like he isn’t already?” Jensen shouts back. “You think he’s gonna let you in that room with Murray? There’s no way in hell he will. You’ll be sittin’ on the other side of that glass, watching them bicker back and forth. And in the end Morgan’s gonna get all the pats on the back and attaboys the department can afford.”

“What’re you talking about?” Jared nearly shrieks. “You’ve been bugging me for days on this case and now you’re not letting me finish this shit up? Don’t you wanna watch Murray get nailed for everything he did?”

With a harsh laugh, Jensen shakes his head. “Right. All he’s gonna do is rattle on and on about a second guy, insist someone else helped him do it. You know how this shit goes. It’s never their fault. Not entirely.”

“There’re pages upon _pages_ of evidence tying Murray to the crime scenes, to all the girls _and_ Price, not mention he was _shooting_ at me and ran. Like he’s gonna get a second of reprieve?”

“He’s gonna blame the cops.”

“Maybe he’ll tell us who his cop _is_!”

Jensen whips the car around another corner, bringing them onto Cicero, racing past Midway Airport before taking a harsh turn to head east. This time of night, it’s relatively dead, just a few cars filling two lanes in each direction, and even fewer homes dotting the commercial and industrial mix of a neighborhood, hangars and airport facilities lining 55th Street.

Jared keeps an eye on their surroundings, realizing that they’ve far bypassed the possibility of any nearby hospital, let alone returning to the 21st.

“What the hell?” Jared mumbles as he watches buildings fly by.

“It don’t matter what there is on paper. Morgan’s gonna push me into this whole shitstorm and you know Chad’s not gonna back down if he has the chance to nail someone else. He’s gonna tell everyone I was there and I knew about it all along.”

Jared’s voice echoes in the car when he yells, “Why the _fuck_ would he do that?”

The wheels squeal when Jensen takes a sharp right into a gravel parking lot, unlit and empty. Jared watches Jensen as he puts the car into park and falls back in his seat, suddenly looking exhausted.

“Jensen,” he demands, loud and harsh.

“I was there with Price.”

Jared can’t speak, mouth frozen and throat dry.

Jensen rubs fingers into his eyes and sounds even more wrecked than he looks. “He called to talk about everything. The accusations and rumors, about the newspapers. He was trying to see if I could help keep it out of the press. So I met him, by the River there.”

“You serious?” he asks with a croak in his voice.

“Yeah. And Chad … Murray showed up. Had been following me since your place. There was a fight, and the gun went off.”

“You _shot_ Price?”

“No. But I was there. I saw it.”

“What the _fuck_ , Jensen?” he huffs, eyes wild on his partner. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Morgan’s already got me fingered on this. You think I’m gonna give him more ammunition?”

Lifting his hands from his face, Jensen stares forward, unseeing through the windshield.

“Impossible,” Jared murmurs. “You were at my place. You were there when I got up.”

Jensen’s voice drops but still carries at bit of attitude. “Wasn’t much traffic that early in the morning.”

“What else?” Jared asks, scared to even know but having to find out.

“Nothing,” Jensen replies, wiping a palm across his mouth.

“Jensen!” Jared huffs out. When Jensen’s eyes slip closed and his hand still covers his mouth, Jared barks his name again.

Sounding tired, Jensen sighs, “Yeah?” as he slowly turns to face him.

“Nothing else?” Jared demands.

“No,” he says in the same drained way.

“You fucking promise me there’s nothing else.”

With his eyes zeroed in on Jared’s, Jensen takes a deep breath and blinks just once before he nods and suddenly livens up. “Yeah, I promise. Nothing else.”

Jared’s ready to say more, but his phone rings, and with that sound, Jensen moves into action. The car’s thrown into drive and Jensen leads it back onto the street, flipping the sirens and lights, and racing off.

Beaver’s on the line and grumbling, “You best have a good reason to not be back yet.”

Wincing with the movement of the car forcing him to slide into the door every few moments, Jared manages to say, “Does getting plowed by a car count?”

“What the hell’re you doing?”

“I’m headed back,” he says, glaring at Jensen. “Won’t be too long.

“Shit,” Beaver sighs. “You ain’t gonna be walking in here bloody and broken, are you?”

He shifts to look over himself and sighs with the comfort of not seeing anything stained or cut up. “Shouldn’t be.”

“Alright. You better get a move on. Morgan’s gonna take Murray into a room after we process him.”

Jared agrees with it and hangs up, phone lightly held in his sore hand. After a few moments, he quietly asks, “Why didn’t you just tell _me_?”

Jensen chuckles harshly. “What? That I was in the middle of a grand conspiracy with no evidence except for my presence?”

“Yeah. Something’s better than nothing.”

“Next time I’m a serial killing suspect, I’ll let you know.”

Jared rolls his eyes and pushes his head back into the seatback, closing his eyes and praying to arrive to the 21st as soon as possible.

  


Jared stands on the other side of the two-way mirror, watching Murray stay completely silent and still, staring into what he sees as a mirror, but his eyes are really boring right into Jared’s. Jared crosses his arms and widens his legs, ignoring the twitch of pain shooting from his knee to his hip.

Morgan’s going on and on, leaning over each of Murray’s shoulders as he likes, mumbling down low as he details all the evidence stacked against him.

The door behind Jared opens, but Jared doesn’t move; he keeps his attention on the scene before him, waiting for Murray to crack.

A hand lands soundly on Jared’s shoulder, making him flinch away with the pain. When he spots Welling, he shoves at the A.D.A.

“Finally got the guy,” Welling grins, but it’s ugly and twisted and hits Jared in all the wrong ways.

“Yeah,” Jared says lamely as he rests an arm at the glass and leans against it.

“Where’s your partner?” he asks as he looks into the interrogation room then around the small viewing room they’re in.

Jared only glances over his shoulder before focusing on the interrogation again. “Paperwork or somethin’.”

“He gonna be a while?”

“Probably. Forms for head-on collisions with other police officers tend to have a lot of duplicates,” he says with a wry twist of his mouth.

Welling steps up to the glass, also watching the Murray continue to keep his mouth shut. “You see the inside of an ER yet?”

Jared gives him a long look. “No. A little busy now.”

“Watching paint dry?” he laughs. “Hit the hospital before you let a break or something set too long.”

“I’m fine,” Jared says oddly. “Besides, I told Jensen that I’d–”

“Let me handle Jensen,” Welling suggests in a surprisingly easy voice.

“Why would I-”

“I’m a _lawyer_. Let me offer a co-worker some advice.”

Jared can only stare. He and Jensen had returned to the station more than an hour ago but as far as he was aware, they’d been in unspoken agreement to not discuss Jensen’s involvement with Price’s death. That they’d remain quiet and develop an answer if Chad eventually names Jensen as a witness to the crime.

Behind Welling, the door swings open and Beaver eyes Jared then the A.D.A. before nodding at the latter. Welling returns the nod and exits the room, leaving Jared in a strong mix of disbelief with Welling suggesting he _help_ Jensen, and confusion with his Lieutenant and Welling holding the silent communication.

Beaver steps up to the glass, hands in his pockets and eyes on the scene in the next room. “Jensen’s got a Union Rep on the way.”

Jared bites the inside of his cheek and takes a slow breath to steady himself and hide the want to sigh and suck in dead air. “What for?” he asks as level as possible.

The long look from the Lieutenant, with surprisingly soft features and lowered shoulders, tells Jared more than he’d have to ask; Beaver knows.

Jared closes his eyes on the fear of what comes next.

Beaver’s words come slowly. “The A.D.A. has some words for your partner before he sees Internal Affairs. A few suggestions. He’ll be fine.”

Jared meets Beaver’s low gaze but then turns back to Morgan’s quiet questioning of Murray. There’s nothing more happening on that side of the glass, but Jared can’t help focusing on it to appear as though he’s not as invested in Jensen’s situation as he really is. “IAD. Not really known for being easy.”

“Jensen’ll be fine,” he says with more force.

He fights the want to find Jensen right then and talk to him, to share a few last words before all hell breaks loose, but he knows he can’t ignore the possibility of bearing witness to Murray finally breaking.

  


Jared finds Jensen seated on a bench, shoulders leaning forward with his hands clenched between his legs. As happy as he’d been that Jensen had texted to meet, to be able to talk to him and get a read on what Jensen’s up to with his Rep and IAD, the sight is anything but encouraging.

Jensen glances up, pushing himself upright but still looking worn out. “You know how many duplicates an IAD report has?”

He swallows hard then smirks and leans against the edge of a line of lockers just off to Jensen’s left. “How many?”

“Seven. Guess how many the carbon actually works on.”

“Four.”

“Three,” Jensen smiles tiredly. “But you’re close.”

“What’d you tell them?”

Jensen’s eyes slip closed and he grimaces as he rubs the back of his hand over his mouth. “The truth.”

“So, is that it then?” Jared asks awkwardly, wondering why Jensen still looks eternally wrecked.

His laugh is more of a sigh. “Not even. Too much fuckin’ paperwork. And Morgan’s still barking up trees.”

“You talk to Beaver? You tell him about it?”

Jensen nods. “Kinda had to, didn’t I?”

Breathing is suddenly hard, with Jensen so distraught and lost in front of him. Jared tucks his hands into his pants’ pockets and nudges his foot at the edge of the locker he’s still resting against. “I would’ve helped. Somehow.”

“I didn’t want you in this any more than you already were.” Jensen meets Jared’s look dead on. “If something happens, it’s on me. I’m not dragging you down, too.”

Jared nods, licks his lips, and stares on the edge of his shoe against the metal corner of the lockers.

“How’s it going with Murray?”

“It’s not,” Jared returns with a flip of his eyebrow. “That guy’s not opening his mouth for anything. No water, no food. Not even a lawyer.”

“He’s hiding his cop.”

“There was another guy there,” Jared says freely, thankful for the distraction of the case. “At Sedore’s apartment.”

“Yeah, Beaver told me,” Jensen returns with a nod. “Forensics has to pick something up in the place.”

A knock at the door stalls further talk and Hodge slides it open. “Hey, Ackles. Lehne’s looking for you.”

Jensen nods and Jared can only stare at his partner, nerves alight in an instant. When Hodge is gone, Jensen rises with Jared stepping up to him. “Lehne? IAD sent Lehne?”

With a wry smile, Jensen shrugs. “Only the best for the best, eh?”

Jared laughs harshly and unbelieving, mind spinning at the stories of Lehne going through every witness, file and dismissed lead to thin out the Department of troublesome cops.

“I got a few pointers. It won’t be so bad,” Jensen says with his shoulders high in an awkward shrug.

Taking a deep breath, Jared relaxes, remembering Welling’s offer to help out, and figures Jensen’s mood on the situation came from that and Beaver. He’s moderately thankful there’s something to count on.

“Whatever happens, I’m sorry,” Jensen says as he steps up to Jared, arms hanging loose at his side, giving the impression that he isn’t about to face the firing squad. “Seriously. Things have been fucked up between us for a while. Mostly my fault.”

“Entirely,” Jared corrects with a miserable smile, stomach rolling hard at Jensen’s words sounding so absolute.

After a fairly long pause, Jensen amends, “Entirely my fault. Bet you’re glad we weren’t all sunshine and roses. Now you don’t have to see this through.”

Jared narrows his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

Jensen shrugs and takes a step back with his hands out in the air. “There’s nothing you have to hang onto, right?”

Jared shoves Jensen into the lockers. He’s ready to swing, to shout, to pummel the hell out of Jensen for his lack of emotion. But he doesn’t read a hint of surprise in Jensen’s face; it seems more like resignation and as though he’d expected Jared to get physical. Jared turns his head, stares at the corner of the room and wills his breathing back to normal, chest tight with anger.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles. When Jared looks at him, Jensen’s eyes shine with moisture and his mouth twists. “I am,” he says even softer.

Jared inhales loudly then steps up and rings his arms around Jensen, engulfing him in a hug, fingers spread as wide as possible across Jensen’s back. Jensen practically clings to Jared, face pressed hard into the juncture of Jared’s neck and shoulder, arms keeping Jared close. Jared palms the back of Jensen’s neck, holding him in because he can’t manage to let go yet. Not when he knows what – or who – awaits Jensen on the other side of that door.

“You were a dick,” Jared says, words muffled as he rests his mouth to Jensen’s shoulder. “For a long time.”

“I know.”

Swallowing against the emotion and fighting the confession, Jared stalls for a few moments. “I’ve loved you. For even longer.”

Jensen’s head tucks in tighter, betraying the way his arms loosen and his hands aren’t tied up in Jared’s shirt as tightly as before.

“You’ve been throwin’ away a good thing for months now,” Jared says thickly.

He pulls back and regards Jared for a second before he hesitantly smiles. “You’re like a bad penny, you always turn up.” Jared rolls his eyes and breathes out a small laugh and Jensen’s smile grows, even while it’s a tad bit wry. “You go on and figure out what the hell’s going on with Murray. Finish the case. Make me proud and all that bullshit.”

“You’re not getting locked up,” Jared argues immediately. “They don’t have enough to arrest.”

“Stop worrying about me,” Jensen murmurs. “You finish this up. Take care of _your_ case.”

His stomach drops with the realization: Jensen probably won’t be showing up for work the next day, or the one after that. There’s too much tarnishing his fairly clean record. Thanks to this whole debacle, Jensen’s career is over.

“So what now?” Jared asks quietly.

“Now, I go talk to Lehne then grab some shut eye in a cell until a judge laughs at them for circumstantial evidence.”

He sighs. “I meant here, with us.”

Jensen looks at Jared, _really_ looks at him, and takes a deep breath. “You really want something with me? After all this crap?”

Jared shrugs and takes a small step forward, unsure with the whole situation but he’s tethered to Jensen. There’s too much history. “Maybe you were right. It’ll be easier without us being partners.”

“Silver lining,” he smirks. “You were always a positive thinker, eh?” Jensen’s face suddenly drops the act and he appears desperately tired. “Let me focus on this. It’s not like I don’t know where to find you.”

Against every notion he’s racking up, Jared nods and moves out of Jensen’s space. Jensen, surprisingly, reaches out to stroke his palm over Jared’s side, squeezing lightly at his hip as he gives a tiny smile.

“You stay out of this, okay? Don’t need company with IAD right now.”

Jared laughs, stunned with the change in his feelings, and then sharply smiles. “Trust me. You’re all on your own with Lehne.”

  


When Jared nudges the door open, Beaver looks up in surprise and Jared stares at Morgan standing at the Lieutenant’s shoulder, reading something on the desk.

“This a bad time?” Jared asks with a tight voice.

“Not at all,” Morgan smirks as he stands straight and slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

Jared eyes him as he enters and steps up to the desk before he can manage to look at Beaver. Morgan looks pretty roughed up and weary; Jared’s sure they all do.

“Anyone look at your knee yet?”

Jared looks at Beaver and glances down at his leg just before his boss adds, “You've been limping since you got back here with Jensen.”

“No, I haven’t. Not yet,” he admits slowly. “Anything with Murray?”

“Bastard’s keeping quiet,” Morgan says with a surprising smile.

“And you’re happy with this?” Jared asks, eyes dead on Morgan’s.

“Whichever. We’ve got enough evidence to lock him up ‘til your retirement.”

Jared turns to Beaver and clears his throat. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“Kid,” Morgan starts with a chuckle. “I’ve been talking his ear off since we slapped cuffs on him. He ain’t spilling his high school locker combination.”

“That’s fine,” Jared returns flatly. “But, he shot my partner and then he aimed at me a few dozen times tonight.”

“Yeah, so what makes you think he _wants_ to talk to you?”

“What makes you think he likes facing your ugly mug?” Jared shoots back before he could think better of it.

“Alright!” Beaver barks out, throwing his arms into the air. “Enough outta the two of you.” He looks sharply at Morgan. “You leave my guys alone for two seconds before I start digging through your department!”

Jared makes a small, happy noise and gives Morgan a smug smile.

“And _you_!” Beaver yells at Jared. “Get the hell outta my office!”

“But, I–” Jared starts to argue.

“But, nothin’. Go talk to Murray, go home, I don’t give a shit anymore. Just stay out of my eyesight.” When Morgan snorts, Beaver rolls his eyes. “I ain’t only talking to him.”

  


The moment Jared crosses the threshold, a cup of coffee in each hand, Murray notably revives himself. He’s now sitting upright, eyes tight on Jared as he approaches the table and puts the two coffees on the table. Then he looks downright freaked to be facing Jared, especially as his hands fumble in the handcuffs that are fastened to the table, clanking anxiously.

“Long morning, huh?” Jared asks lightly, small smile barely hiding his exhaustion. He pulls a chair out and sits as he grabs a cup and starts drinking.

Murray’s eyes sweep from Jared to the two-way mirror then right back to Jared.

Jared looks over his shoulder to the glass then slowly turns back. “You waiting on something?”

It takes a few moments, but Murray clears his throat and asks, “When’m I done here?”

“We haven’t even started yet,” Jared replies, eyes just over the lip of his coffee as he drinks.

“I already talked to the other guy.”

“That’s an understatement,” he chuckles. “I was watching for a while and you didn’t exactly _talk_.”

Murray bristles, sitting back only so far with his hands firmly cuffed to the top of the table. “I don’t have anything to say.”

Jared leans forward and smirks. “I think you have _a lot_ to say. I think there’s so much inside you that you _want_ to talk about it.”

“No,” he replies slowly.

“I mean, you’ve been operating in a vacuum this whole time.” Jared puts his cup down and ticks off fingers as he goes on. “Ordered to follow Samantha Price, and you kill her. Go after your ex sister-in-law, and you kill her. Then the neighbor. And then Alderman Price.”

“No way, man.”

“Yes, way,” he chuckles.

“No, I didn’t,” Murray mumbles, shaking his head quickly. “That wasn’t me. Gina, Samantha, no.”

“But the others were?” Jared grins when Murray’s eyes fly right to the glass as if he’s waiting for something to happen over Jared’s shoulder. Jared shuffles to the edge of his chair and leans further across the table, dropping his voice. “Chad, why’d you keep quiet so long? Someone like you wants to _tell_ people how bad-ass they are. I mean, you just up and sang to my partner about all your bull shit. We know you’re involved here. We know it was your gun that killed the Alderman.”

Murray shuts down, eyes flat on Jared, suddenly straight-faced like he was for the entire time Morgan was in the room.

“What I don’t know,” Jared continues. “Is who was with you? Who was at Natalie’s place last night and who’d you fight with?”

 _The eyes are tight on Jared for a long, silent while._

 _“Was it the cop you work with? The one who’s got you tied up as a cheap informant?”_

 _Murray ticks his head just a tad to the side. Then he glances at the mirror and straightens in his chair, shoulders and arms rigid in a disturbing fashion._

 _Jared turns his head far enough to see the mirror in the corner of his eye, and something in his stomach spins with an eerie notion. He stares at Murray, inventorying the guy’s dead gaze, cuts littering his face, fingers busted up in what Jared can assume was the fight in the apartment and later the chase through the streets and subsequent tumble with Morgan as they apprehended Murray._

 _He narrows his eyes at Murray as he rises. On a whim and to distract himself from saying much, Jared nudges the second coffee within reach._

 _Murray eyes it and then Jared, but he doesn’t go for it._

 _“I’ll be back,” Jared murmurs._

 __

  


 _“Oh, my God. You look like shit.”_

 _Jared keeps signing in on the forms at the top of the counter and just sniffs instead of snapping back at Tal. He counts up the past day or so and realizes it’s been a good 30-some hours since he’s slept. It’s happened before, but he can usually squeeze in a quick bout of shut-eye somewhere._

 _His brain is fried but his nerves are flaming with possibilities._

 _He pushes the clipboard back across the counter and inhales loudly. “Lemme see the Gina Murray file.”_

 _She gives him a long look before she glances down to double check the sign-in. “We don’t have it.”_

 _“Why not?”_

 _“Was transferred to the 21st.”_

 _“What for,” he asks slowly._

 _She harshly chuckles at him. “ _Your case_ maybe?”_

His head spins but he manages to grab the clip board back, crossing out a few lines and scribbling in the margin as he requests, “Louise Cooper.”

“21st,” she responds instantly.

Jared slowly brings his eyes up to her, pen in hand, poised over the sheet. “Samantha Price.”

Tal merely raises an eyebrow in return.

“You have _any_ files that I might’ve touched in the last few months?”

She shrugs awkwardly. “Morgan’s got ‘em all.”

“How?”

“It’s an open investigation. _His_ investigation.”

“And mine,” Jared points out, voice dropping into pissy.

“And you’ve been at the 21st for weeks,” Tal fires back. “How’re you cuttin’ me up for this? Go talk to his people.”

Jared clucks his tongue and then, with attitude, flips backwards through the sign-in sheet, page after page after page. He slows as he reaches April then March, pausing when he hits what he’s looking for. He snags the sheet out of the book and walks away without a word.

After trolling the halls for a minute or so, he sees Jensen leaving an interrogation room, face long and shoulders hunched. And Lehne trailing behind.

Jared pulls up and stares, fingers crinkling the sheet in his hand. There’s a moment of reprieve when Jensen glances up and gives a small smile before his eyes find the paper Jared’s holding and he looks interested, eyes wide and searching Jared’s.

“Hey now,” Lehne says, voice rough despite his smile. “Gotta keep a move on here, Ackles.”

“Just two minutes?” Jared asks anxiously.

Lehne checks his watch and rolls his eyes before cocking a sideways glare at Jensen. “You got ninety seconds and you’re not leaving my sight.”

Jensen takes a moment to watch Lehne then Jared, and they move to the other side of the hallway.

“So, what’s going on now?” Jared asks quietly but with nerves littering his tone.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jensen smooths over as he brings his eyes down to Jared’s hand. “What’s that?”

His hand closes tighter into a fist and he waves it a little. “Morgan’s got all the files on his side.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. But Murray’s not talking. And I don’t have the patience to wait for him to crack.”

“Then what? What now?” Jensen asks, eyes wide and voice slightly mocking. “You’re gonna just run through the 21st and snatch up files?”

The very last of Jared’s composure dissipates and he can hear it in his response. “I don’t know. I have no clue what I’m doing right now.”

Jensen looks over his shoulder to Lehne, who’s giving them a tired glance and crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. Jensen turns back to Jared and lightly shakes his head. “They’ve got enough to lock Murray up for four lifetimes.”

Jared pushes his free hand through his hair and sighs as he picks his head up to stare down the hallway. Everything weighs on him: the lack of rest, exhaustion from running all over town for months, pain from the accident. He knows he needs to sleep; he needed it half a day ago.

Another look to Lehne and Jensen’s voice drops, quiet and soothing. “Jay, go home and sleep.” He moves a little closer, hand barely squeezing around Jared’s elbow. “Finish this on a fresh mind.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Wherever Sheriff Buford leads,” Jensen says with a smirk.

“Real funny, Ponch,” Lehne snaps back. He pushes off the wall and approaches them.

“That was the guy with the good hair, right?”

“You two done yet?” Lehne asks, eyes mostly on Jared.

Jensen nods with one last glance at Jared. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Jared watches them leave, Lehne just a foot or two behind and to the side of Jensen, leading them around the end of the hallway and out of sight. When Jared heads in the opposite direction, he sighs loudly, folding the paper into quarters and stuffing it into his back pocket. He threads both hands through his hair, trying to calm himself and find some sense of sanity.

He knows Jensen’s right; he needs to rest, he’s reacting too quickly, too anxiously. Just to end the night, he makes a pass by Beaver’s office, tiredly waves him off, and makes a stop at his desk for a few incidentals.

At the doorway from the bullpen into the hallway, Morgan talks with Harris. Jared can barely hear the instructions for evidence to catalog and for her to stand guard at Interrogation Room until he’s ready to transport Murray.

Jared approaches, gently patting at Morgan’s back as he says, “I’m heading out for some shut-eye. Call with anything good.”

Morgan flinches at Jared’s touch but then nods with a bright smile. “You bet, kiddo.”

As Jared takes a few more steps, he clenches his hand and feels how his palm is slick. When he looks at it, its smudged in red.

He stops and stares at it, knowing instantly that it’s blood. He spins back to Morgan and eyes the dark t-shirt the officer is now in, having stripped away a button-up and jacket from earlier in the evening.

Jared can’t breathe, can only stare with thoughts of Morgan’s back being cut, and he instantly imagines Morgan in Natalie Sedore’s apartment. Imagines Murray shoving the detective into the picture window, the wide glass cracking just as Jared had witnessed.

His eyes drop to his hand again and he rubs fingers over the swipe of blood. When he looks up to Morgan, the detective’s staring at him, eyes dark and intent for just a moment before he ends his conversation with Harris and promptly leaves out the door at the other end of the room, the one closest to the back parking lot.

Cutting down the hallway, Jared finds another stairwell and stomps down it, spinning at each landing before jumping down the final four stairs and rushes down one last hallway before he slams open a door that also takes him to the parking lot.

With the morning sun out, it’s easy to see Morgan rushing through the lot, sliding between cars and heading for his sedan. Morgan keeps glancing around the lot and when he spots Jared, he quickens his step, jogging across the gravel lot.

Jared races through the maze of cars then hops up a hood, running over the top and down to the hood before jumping to the next one and keeping an eye on Morgan running to his car. Four car jumps later and Jared lands right on the hood of Morgan’s car just as the he’s yanking open the driver’s side door.

They’re both panting and glaring at each other, hands hovering near their holsters. As far as trained eyes go, Jared can tell that Morgan’s more than prepared for a quick draw of his weapon and likely knows Jared is, too.

“No easy way outta this one,” Morgan murmurs with a small smile.

“Was about to say the same to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why’d you run?” Jared asks with a growing smirk, adrenaline firing him up. “Guilty men sleep and run. You look pretty fresh.”

“So’s your partner.”

Jared narrows his eyes. “Just a little deflection, wasn’t it?” With the memory of Morgan trying so hard to plant suspicion on Jensen’s involvement, Jared’s anger ramps up. I’m gonna tear you apart when we get back inside.”

Morgan shifts upright to stand straight but Jared keeps an eye on how his hands drop closer to his waist. “Don’t think I gotta worry about that.”

“How so?” Jared asks slowly as he also carefully repositions himself, shoulders hunched in and knees loosely bent for any quick move.

“You got Murray tied up in evidence. Jensen, too.”

“Think I got something more conclusive here.”

Morgan chuckles darkly. “Highly doubt it.”

Jared grins then licks his lips with the excitement running through his veins. “You’re damned well working yourself up for a confession right here.”

“Who’s gonna tell anyone anything? You?” he chuckles as the space between his hip and hand closes. As his fingers stretch for the gun fastened to his belt.

Moving at the same pace, Jared’s palm meets his firearm and he shakes his head. “You’re not the only one out here with a gun.” They both fall silent and Jared takes a long, calming breath. “Thumb and forefinger,” he instructs with authority and amazing composure. “Remove your weapon and drop it.”

Morgan eyes him for a long while then tiredly shakes his head. “You’re a little smarter than I thought.” His fingers curl around the butt of the gun in a way that makes Jared leery, though he tries to not react too quickly.

He keeps his eyes on Morgan’s grip and the second he sees Morgan’s index finger slip forward, when the shoulder flinches forward, Jared draws his weapon and startles at the sound of five quickfire gunshots that aren’t his. Morgan’s arm drops and Jared’s chest heaves with harsh breathing as he catalogs every appendage – nothing hurts, burns, or goes numb. His eyes widen when Morgan drops to the ground.

He refuses to move for a few moments, just watching Morgan before zeroing in on the dark circles spreading at his shoulder, clavicle, the right side of his chest, and two more in his gut.

Instinct comes to him and he kicks the gun away from Morgan’s hand then toes hard at his side, making sure the guy isn’t moving. When there’s no movement and he’s comfortable enough, he looks up and sees Lehne crouched over the backend of a patrol car, gun still aimed at Jared.

Jared raises his hands, gun spinning around his index finger so he can prove he doesn’t have a hold on it as he extends his arm and puts it on the hood.

Lehne stands and chuckles, which should probably ease Jared’s nerves but it does the opposite. He gets amped up and tense, and holds his palms out as the IAD agent nears him. “I didn’t do anything,” he rushes to say. “I didn’t even fire.”

“Believe me, I know,” Lehne grunts out with a shake of his head and a quick glance off to the right.

Coming towards them is Jensen, with his arms at his side but his weapon tight in his hand. His eyes are wide and chest rising high with every breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jared huffs out, nodding. “What the fuck’re you doing out here?”

Jensen looks at Lehne then gives Jared an awkward smile. “Long story.”

“Not sure I’m going anywhere right now,” Jared laughs hysterically. “Twelve hours and I’ve had two guns drawn on me. I’m okay to stop for a lil while and just talk.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jensen looks just beyond Jared, mouth in a straight line. “Plenty of time for talkin’ inside.”

Jared follows Jensen’s sight and spots a dozen or so cops – both uniformed and not – making their way outside. Behind the group, Beaver’s moving forward with his eyes right on Jared.

  


He’d spent most of the daylight hours with Lehne staring at him from across the table: a three-hour debrief of whatever Jared could recount from that morning with Morgan, both in and outside the station, and a general rundown of interactions with the now-dead detective.

Then Jared was told to go home, and he did so happily, collapsing to the mattress in the same clothes he’d been wearing for the past twenty-four hours.

Despite the exhaustion that allows him to sleep for a little over five hours with minimal movement in bed, he wakes to keys jangling in the deadbolt to his front door.

He’s not embarrassed with the speed at which he sits up in bed; he equates it to heightened senses from having faced the open end of a barrel from one of his fellow officers.

The door sounds slow as it creaks open then keys clank on his coffee table before footsteps sound off, growing louder on their path to the bedroom. Jared steps to the floor and to the side and then he inhales loudly at Jensen peeking his head into the doorway.

And more so at the smooth smile Jensen shoots his way. “You ain’t sleepin’? Figured you’d be out for the week.”

Jared scratches behind his ear as he walks back to the bed. “Funny things happen when you see your life flash before your eyes.”

“Like what?” he asks with the same curl to his lips.

“Every noise is the end of it all,” he admits on a mumble, stretching out on his side with a pillow tucked under his head.

Jensen settles on the other side of the bed with his shoulder pressed into the headboard.

“How’d you even get in?” he mumbles.

Smirking, Jensen replies, “Left your keys in the door. No wonder you’re so jumpy.”

Jared rolls his eyes then keeps them shut.

Jensen gently strokes fingers through Jared’s hair, murmuring, “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I could sleep ‘til I’m dead.”

“Yeah, Lehne’s pretty fierce,” Jensen agrees with a nod.

Jared looks up at him, thinking of all the things Beaver had told him behind closed doors following Jared’s debrief. How IAD had their eyes on Morgan for being involved with the Alderman, for cornering and forcing CIs into doing his dirty deeds, faking evidence and even trapping other officers into helping, covering his tracks, or turning a blind eye. That is, until Price stopped their arrangement and Morgan put Murray into action. Threatened arrest at every turn until Murray wormed his way into the Alderman’s life to find out who knew what about everything. And once they'd convinced Murray that Morgan was gone and no longer able to do a damned thing to get to him, Murray spilled all the beans for a better chance at parole before he hit seventy.

More surprising than Lehne already tracking Morgan for the past year was Jensen’s involvement with IAD.

“How long were you involved?” Jared asks quietly, unable to look at Jensen for too long before dropping his eyes.

Jensen takes a deep breath and then bites into his lower lip before biting at the top one. He finally answers, “Since Samantha Price. Soon after the Alderman came in. He talked to me a bit about what was going on.”

Jared’s mind fires through so many interactions of the last three months, thinking of their tension and fighting, or Jensen’s random disappearances and long hours in evidence. It all makes sense now, but he’s still stung by not knowing about any of it.

“So for all the times Morgan was fingering you–”

“I was watching him,” Jensen finishes.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I couldn’t.”

Jared turns to his back and scratches above his eyebrow, thinking it all over. How all their problems were stirred up when Jensen seemed tied to every bit of evidence, when Morgan was pushing Jensen right into the spotlight – Jensen was busy working a second angle to the entire case.

“What about when Beaver pulled you off the case?” Jared asks quickly, glancing over.

“He was giving me the outsider point of view.”

“He knew?”

Jensen smiles and slides down a bit to be closer to Jared again. “Yeah, of course. But he kept warning you to stay away from me so it wouldn’t be obvious that someone was looking at Morgan.”

“Should’ve told me,” Jared mumbles as he looks back to the ceiling.

He shifts over Jared, forearms into the mattress on either side of Jared’s head so Jared’s forced to look at him. “I couldn’t.”

Jared swallows hard then complains, “You started all that crap just because.”

“Not just because,” Jensen defends.

“Gettin’ all shitty and not answering a single question I had about what was going on.”

“Like I could just _tell you_ what I was doing?”

Shaking his head, Jared turns his away but Jensen’s pulling him right back with a firm hand at Jared’s cheek.

“You think I wanted to be like that?” Jensen asks quietly. “Always fightin’ and stayin’ away?”

“Sure,” he grumbles back.

“It wasn’t a cakewalk, Jared. Walking the tightrope and then us breaking up.”

With a snort, Jared looks away.

“But it was for the best at the time. I didn’t want you to be at risk with Morgan. I had to work on it on my own.”

Jared shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Jensen shuffles closer, chests pressed together and arms a tighter bracket around Jared’s head. He smirks down at him and then kisses him, sure and calm. When Jared reluctantly opens his mouth, neither of them speed up, it just carries on slowly.

Jared lifts a hand to Jensen’s back and then he slips away just a few inches back to look at him. They watch each other for a long while.

The first one to break is Jensen, quietly admitting, “I’m going IAD.” When Jared doesn’t respond, he adds, “For good.”

“You’re gonna become a rat?”

“I’ll be one of the good guys,” he shoots back with a smile.

Jared’s fingers flick away from Jensen’s back as he stumbles through asking, “So what about, what happens now? We’re not even partners anymore?”

“There’s talk of you gettin’ a new one, yeah. I wouldn’t leave you in bad hands.”

His gaze slips down Jensen’s face before walking right back up to meet Jensen’s eyes. “I doubt IAD can fraternize any more than a homicide detective.”

“Just gotta be more discrete,” Jensen mumbles as he dips down for a wet press of his mouth to Jared’s. “Which, I know it ain’t your strong suit …”

Despite all efforts, Jared’s lips began curl up.

“But maybe you could make an effort.”

“Shut up,” Jared grumbles.

Jensen shifts to rest more comfortably over Jared. “You know what you just did?”

“Took your sorry ass back?”

“Besides that,” he smirks. “You solved our four-month-old, quadruple homicide.”

Jared licks his lips and starts to smile. It stays small but he feels it warm his face. “I did. And without you. Did it by myself.”

Jensen lifts an eyebrow. “Need I remind you that you thought Murray acted alone.”

“So?”

“I’m not one to say I told ya so.”

Jared gawks at Jensen then snorts. “Yeah, you are.”

Shifting again, Jensen lowers himself. “I told ya so.”

As Jensen drops down to kiss him, Jared keeps his lips tight to avoid it. When Jensen moves back, Jared glares at him. “You thought he was a loner, too.”

“Yeah, but I knew he was working with Morgan.”

“Did you know he was sleeping with Price?” Jared challenges.

“Well, no-”

“Then I win.”

Jensen huffs and rises to his elbows. “It’s not a contest.”

Jared snorts. “It’s always been a contest.”

Slipping close again, Jensen slides a leg between Jared’s. He settles against Jared and then takes a deep breath. “I can’t wait to start IAD and get away from your smug face.”

“I can’t wait for a new partner,” Jared shoots back. “We’ll get shit done in less than a week.”

Jensen smirks. “I can’t wait for your partner either. You’re gonna be miserable.”

“You know who it is?” Jensen’s hum as he nuzzles Jared’s jaw sets him off. “Who is it? You know, don’t you?”

“Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

“From now on,” Jared says a bit firmly. “I’d like it if you stopped hiding shit.”

Jensen takes a deep breath and his eyes are suddenly gentle. “Being in IAD, I’m gonna have to keep some things quiet.” Jared keeps staring and Jensen nods lightly. “But everything else, I promise.” Then he smiles. “After you get your new partner. Because it’s gonna be _awesome_.”

“For me?” Jared asks skeptically.

“For me.”

  


It’s been nearly forty-eight hours since he last set foot inside the station, having been given the rest of Sunday and all of Monday to rest. Beaver had actually instructed him to stay home Tuesday, too, but Jared’d argued against it.

He just wants to move forward, keep going, forget that one of Chicago’s supposed-finest had aimed a gun at his chest.

“Padalecki!” Beaver barks from his office.

When Jared moves back into view of the open doorway, he gives a hesitant smile. “Yeah, Lieu?”

“Thought I told you keep your ass at home?”

“You did,” he admits as he walks closer. He leans at the doorframe then puts on a grin for no purpose other than to attempt to fall back into normal banter. “Just too excited about my next big case.”

“Christ Almighty,” Beaver sighs. Pulling his glasses off and dropping them to his desk, he stands and then rounds the room to nudge Jared out of the doorway so he can enter the bullpen. “Stop being so cheery. You’re foolin’ no one.”

Jared follows as Beaver approaches Jared’s desk, which is bumped up against a miraculously clean desk. One that used to be littered with all of Jensen’s things and various files and casework. Even as they wrapped up cases, they were still drowning in paperwork.

“That was quick,” Jared sighs, eyes glued to the blank surface, stomach dropping at the idea of Jensen being in another room, another department, another building entirely.

Beaver pats his back in a quick moment of comfort. When Jared meets his gaze, the Lieutenant turns more gruff, like always, and kicks at Jared’s desk. “I want this thing cleaned. And soon. You don’t got anything on your plate right now. And for good reason. You’re a pig and it ain’t gonna pass for good enough much longer.”

A moment after the dig passes over him, Jared smirks, feeling everything ease back like it was weeks ago. “I missed ya, Lieu.”

“Whatever,” Beaver grumbles as he steps away. He stops in the middle of the room and points at Jared. “Tomorrow morning, your new guy’ll be here.”

“Yeah, who?” Jared asks.

“Pellegrino.”

“What?” he nearly shrieks.

Beaver cocks his head with a sly smile. “Guy’s killer on the Special Crimes circuit. I think you’ll do just fine with him.”

“Yeah, but,” Jared argues as he recalls past gossip about a crazed detective who made Collins look sane.

“You’ll do _fine_ ,” Beaver says with finality and goes back to his office, shutting the door.

With a low sigh, he turns back to his desk and stares between his mess and the blankness Jensen’s left behind.

“Hey,” he hears from the far end of the room, and when he looks up, Jensen’s hanging in the doorway. And he’s got an easy grin on his face, which, while new, is quite comforting. “You hungry?”

“You kidding?” Jared laughs, thinking of all the times he randomly puts away food. Just ‘cause it’s available.

Jensen nods off to the side and grins even wider, eyes bright. “You comin’?”

He glances at the two extremely differing desks, over to Beaver’s office, and then back to Jensen. “Yeah, of course.” When he reaches the doorway and follows Jensen out, he sighs. “Not like I could do anything without a partner.”

“Who’d you get?”

“Pellegrino,” Jared mumbles miserably.

Jensen bursts into laughter, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face.

Jared immediately shoves his shoulder into Jensen’s, complaining, “You can’t laugh at this. It’s all your fault.”

“No. No, really, you’ll be good,” Jensen replies, barely hiding his amusement.

He sighs roughly and shakes his head. “Again. All your fault.”

“He’s not so bad.”

“Isn’t he the one who recites Miranda rights to the Star Spangled Banner?”

Jensen laughs again then pats at Jared’s back, rubbing lightly at the end. “Just once. But yes.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “This better be one hell of a lunch.”

“Mr. Sub?”

He eyes Jensen, trying to gauge having a cheap sub that he knows Jensen won’t care for – and will likely complain about –versus not having lunch with Jensen at all.

Jared shrugs. “I guess it could be worse.”

  


  


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[Timestamps!](http://dugindeep.livejournal.com/tag/cops%20and%20robbers)  


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Before you forget, go give some love to the [Art Post](http://kelleigh.livejournal.com/304727.html)  
by 


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